


Round Came the Magpie

by StolenChilde



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Community: deancasbigbang, Discussion of Vessel-related Consent Issues, Established Relationship, F/M, Homophobic Language, Language, M/M, Mild Romantic Situations Involving a Minor, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 00:40:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 68,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StolenChilde/pseuds/StolenChilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester met an angel on his thirteenth birthday and never could have predicted the road his life would take... Now, it's thirteen years later and John Winchester, his father, goes missing. Dean finds his past and his future coming together in one horrible mess. Luckily though, Dean has some help to get him out of it – even if it isn’t exactly a smooth ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I need to thank several wonderful people who helped me along this journey. Everyone on my flist who encouraged me to participate in DCBB this year. My brilliant artist [Thimblings](http://thimblings.livejournal.com) who gave me three brilliant pieces which you must check out [here]() and please, please leave a comment telling her how amazing they are!
> 
> Also, I really, really have to thank my wonderful, incredible beta [Dapperscript](http://dapperscript.livejournal.com) who did so, so much work on this story. Without her it would not be readable. Thank you darling!
> 
> Lastly, a thank you to the mods, organizers and participates of DCBB 2013 who keep this challenge running every year and for that I am so, so grateful. Not only for the chance to participate but also for the amazing pieces that come out of it every year! Thanks everyone!
> 
> One final note: due to the nature of this story, pieces of dialogue have been taken from the first season of SPN. Those borrowed pieces of course belong to Kripke and Co.
> 
> Please enjoy!

 

**Prologue**

_January 24 th, 1992_

The boy ran from the room, face flushed, eyes and throat aching as he tried to valiantly hold back tears. He had promised this year, had _promised_ , but the boy should have known better by now than to trust his father’s promises.

When Sammy asked, he always had a ready excuse on his tongue, dismissing their father’s behaviour for a good reason that he made up and that was probably far, far from the truth. He just hoped, this time, that it really was a good reason and that John Winchester wasn’t face down in a ditch somewhere drunk off his ass.

For the next twenty-three and a half minutes, it was Dean Winchester’s thirteenth birthday. He had finally made that transition from child to teenager and his father had _promised_ to be there so they could celebrate properly.

When Dean got to the edge of the wood surrounding their cabin, he gave up his charade and collapsed on a precariously balanced fallen tree. He dug his short nails in the rough bark and finally let the tears fall. Just once he wanted something special. Just once after all this time, he wanted a good day. Hell, he hadn’t even wanted a cake or presents or anything unusual. He just wanted his dad there with an extra-large pepperoni pizza and a lame action flick on motel cable. Dad, he and Sammy would just laugh and eat their pizza, criticise how crappy the stunts were, and go to bed happy.

“Was it really too much to ask?” Dean muttered out loud, voice choked and rough, cracking with approaching puberty.

Unexpectedly, everything stopped – the crickets, birds, rustling of animals and even the trees.

Dean heard a rustle and groan from behind him. He tensed, twisting his head slowly as he peered into the dark wood, cursing himself for leaving flashlight and gun back at the cabin. God, he was such a _moron_.

Dean waited for the sound again, sitting very still to hopefully pinpoint where it was coming from and plot the best escape route. He never got that far because suddenly out of nowhere he found himself tumbling to the ground, his chest screaming, as if someone had just punched it and then he heard a great, groaning crash, followed by searing pain to his left thigh and right knee. He cried out, unable to stop the involuntary reaction. He had fallen backwards and somehow the log he had been perched on had fallen on top of him – he was trapped.

With false bravado, and unable to do anything else while he tried to think of a plan, Dean  breathed through the pain and shouted, “You better run now you bastard! My dad’s one of the best fucking hunters around and he’s gonna be real pissed when he sees what you did to me!” It was a lie, a bald-faced one. John Winchester was God knew where and wasn’t going to come looking for Dean. Dean would die here, alone, trapped like a rat. He may not even be discovered for days in this secluded spot with only his baby brother nearby. His baby brother, Sammy, would be left alone without protection, without help, without someone to take care of him. _Dean why did you have to be such a fucking crybaby and an idiot?_ Sammy might die and it would be all his fault.

The most curious thing of the entire event, however, was that Dean still had yet to see the creature that did this to him and it _had_ to be a creature. His chest was still throbbing from when the thing forced him off the log. He was in a perfect position for attack but the wood was eerily silent save for the sound of Dean’s own panted breath and pained whimpers that he tried vainly to bite back.

But suddenly a low buzzing began to fill his ears, growing rapidly louder with each passing second. Dean threw his dirty hands over his ears as the sound quickly became unbearable and the forest itself seemed to quiver and shake. Next was even more peculiar, for a bright, pure white light suddenly filled the edge of the wood and Dean gasped before he slammed his eyes shut, wishing he could turn away.

He could still see the glow behind his eyelids, back lit and orange-red, bright and painful. Almost as soon as it began, he heard an inhuman shriek and a strange fluttering sound, then all went dark and quiet once more. He dared not open his eyes though, or remove his hands even as he felt the wood on his legs shift, sending a whole new spark of pain through damaged appendages.

It wasn’t until he felt gentle hands on his wrists slowly prying his hands away from his ears and a quiet voice say his name that he opened his eyes. There, kneeling before him in the dirt, was a boy seemingly untouched by their surroundings. He had a kind face, dark hair and blue eyes that were almost too large for his young face. He was smiling at Dean and was older by four or five years. Dean looked down to where their hands were joined and saw his own palms were bloody.

Then as if travelling through water, he heard the boy say, “Dean Winchester, you are saved.” The boy pressed a soft kiss to Dean’s forehead and warmth swept over his entire body, a comfortable floating sensation with no more pain.

And Dean slept.

  
 


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

_October 3o th, 2005_           

Sam Winchester’s eyes shot open in the dark and he stayed very still while he waited. He heard whatever had disturbed him once more – a faint creak coming from the living room. Sam eased out of bed and groped around beside him for a weapon but cursed himself because he didn’t keep a gun nearby anymore. Not since he moved in with Jess.

Sam crept down the short hallway to the direction of the noise; he pressed himself tight against a wall and waited. There was a silhouette crossing the darkened room. Sam’s eyes shot over to an open window on the far side of the house where the intruder must have entered. As soon as the trespasser was close enough, Sam reached out and grabbed him, a firm hand landing on the man’s shoulder. The man twisted around quickly and grabbed Sam in return. Sam just barely managed to get the intruder to the floor but his advantage didn’t last long. The next instant he found himself flipped and pressed firmly to the ground, looking up into his brother’s grinning face. Sam’s eyes widened before he went boneless and shook his head faintly.

After the abrupt and aborted scuffle, the two young men involved heard a low snort from the doorway and both turned to take in the sight of a tall, dark-haired man leaning against the door jam. He was dressed in clothes that looked just a bit too big for him but he had an air about him that suggested he didn’t care. He liked those clothes and he wasn’t about to give them up.

“Quite done, you two?” he asked, his voice surprisingly low, vibrating through the still-dark room. The tallest of the men walked over and flicked on a lamp. The new arrival closed the door behind him and came into the room; he walked right into the lighter-haired man’s personal space and lifted his chin, turning it this way and that until he made a low sound of satisfaction then turned critical eyes on the tallest. He didn’t give the young man the same hands-on treatment but he certainly assessed.

“Very glad to see you didn’t kill each other. How have you been, Sam?” the late arrival asked.

“Castiel, Cas, hey!” Sam was suddenly grinning. “Dean, wow. This is… a surprise.”

A timid female voice called out next and the three men turned to watch the gorgeous blonde approach.

“Sam?” she asked.

Suddenly Dean was grinning and he swept his gaze up and down the lightly-clad woman, whistling low. “Who’s this?”

Sam walked over and slung a protective arm around the girl’s shoulder, glaring faintly at his brother. “Knock it off, Dean. This is Jessica Moore, my girlfriend.”

“I don’t know what he did to get you, Sweetheart, but you are way too good for my little brother,” Dean grinned charmingly.

Castiel rolled his eyes and took his jacket off, offering it to Jessica, then holding out a hand. “Pleased to meet you Miss Moore, you’ll have to excuse Dean. He’s quite spoken for and doesn’t mean any harm.” 

“Dude,” Dean blushed. 

“It’s true,” Castiel stated simply. “So says the matching bands of metal on our fingers you insisted we get and that slip of paper from Canada that proclaims you are, in fact, spoken for.”

Dean looked away but he was smiling dopily. 

“Wait…” Jessica remarked, pulling the tan coat tight around herself. She turned inquiring eyes up to Sam, then back to the two intruders. “These are your brothers? Dean and Castiel?” 

“Sammy’s been talking about us, huh? Aww, that’s sweet, Sammy. Well unfortunately though, me and Cas gotta borrow your boyfriend here. Some family shit went down. Nice meeting you though." 

Jessica hesitated, almost going to move away but Sam’s arm didn’t release her. He squared his shoulders and flicked his gaze from brother to brother-in-law. 

“No,” Sam said simply. 

“No,” Dean repeated flatly. 

“Yeah, Jess isn’t going anywhere. You wouldn’t kick Cas out, right? Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of Jess.” 

Dean and Castiel shared one of those long silent conversations that Sam had to contend with since they were teenagers. He almost snapped at them to spit it out already when he saw a brief lifting of Castiel’s shoulder and a small hand gesture towards Sam and Jess. 

One last glance between Castiel and Sam, then Dean said, “Well, okay then, Sammy. Dad hasn’t been home in a few days.” 

Sam snorted and almost rolled his eyes. “So? He probably got bogged down with a Miller-Time shift. He’ll stumble back in eventually.” 

Dean shared another glance with Castiel and Castiel sighed, his eyes intent on Sam, and told him, “Sam, your father’s on a hunting trip and hasn’t returned yet. We haven’t seen him for several days.” 

“Yeah, we were supposed to meet up five days ago and he never showed,” Dean added. 

Sam tensed, squeezed Jessica’s shoulder comfortingly. “Jess, if you’ll excuse us, we’ll be outside,” he remarked tightly. 

Jessica sent curious and concerned glances between the three men and edged away from the group. When she was about to round the corner, she slid out of Castiel’s jacket and held it out. “Ah, sure. Thanks.” 

Castiel took it with a small smile. “You’re welcome. It was wonderful meeting you, Miss Moore and you really are lovely. Sleep well.” 

Jessica bobbed her head robotically and hurried away. Sam grabbed a hoodie he had slung over one of their well-used couches and gestured to the door impatiently. Castiel and Dean preceded the younger man out. 

They walked down the wooden stairs in silence. Sam passed them and opened the metal gate with a creak and a groan which seemed far too loud at the lateness of the hour. They trudged over to where Dean had parked the Impala and Sam waited impatiently for one of them to begin. Castiel and Dean just snuck glances at each other and then back at Sam. 

Sam huffed, his exasperation clear. “Well? Are either of you going to start or is this that game of yours where you make me guess? I mean seriously guys, you can’t just show up here and expect me to hit the road with you. I’m surprised you’d even want me along to be honest. Bit of a third wheel, aren’t I?” 

“Sam, you’re a hunter,” Castiel said patiently, “and therefore an asset.” 

“Dude, you’re a frigging angel,” Sam snapped back. “Pretty much the only asset Dean needs.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Really, Sam? You know Cas has to keep a low profile, he can’t just go in smite happy and expect everything to be fine. Last resort, remember? Draws less attention to himself and therefore me and by extension _you._ We told you, Sammy, Dad’s missing.” 

“It’s _Sam,”_ he replied, through gritted teeth. “This isn’t the first time Dad’s tumbled off the grid, Dean. Do you need me to name cities?” 

“This is different, Sam,” Castiel said uncertainly. 

“Different how?” the youngest demanded. 

Dean sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Dad was supposed to meet up with us in Illinois, five days ago.” 

“He never showed?” Sam asked unnecessarily. 

“No, he showed and we all went camping, had marshmallows and s’mores and sang fucking Kumbaya!” Dean retorted mockingly. 

“Jesus, just a question,” Sam held up his hands, placating.  

Castiel put a hand gently on Dean’s shoulder and stepped forward slightly. He turned to Sam. “We waited three days, we tried phoning him. We called around. I even flew to the last place he was seen – nothing. We drove out here right after. You can understand our concern. Prior to that, he was gone for nearly a month.” 

Sam bit his lip and looked between his brothers, turning away slightly, fists clenched at his sides. 

Dean allowed the silence to stretch for a moment then finally snapped out, “So are you coming with us or not?” 

Sam’s gaze flicked up for a second before he turned away again. “I swore I was done hunting for good. When you two paired up, I figured you wouldn’t need me anymore and I could get out.” 

Dean’s expression was an odd mixture of mild shock and hurt. Castiel’s hand slipped from his shoulder to rub gently at his back but didn’t say anything. This was something between Sam and Dean. Castiel would remain a silent supporter only. 

“You’re my brother, Sammy. We’re family – the four of us and Bobby – we’re all we’ve got. I want you with me on this. Other than me, you’re the best hunter I know and this is _Dad_. I know things were rough and I know after… Well I know things got harder but was it really that bad?” 

“Dean,” Sam said with a sigh, his eyes sad, “we’ve been running and hiding since I was nine years old, not only from things that go bump in the night but also angels who are apparently out for our asses for some inane reason. Cas helped with the angels but I got me away from the monsters. I’m _happy_ here. I mean, what if I came to your house in the middle of the night and told you to drop everything and come with me? Leave Cas?” 

Dean’s face hardened. “That’s different, Sam.” 

“How? How is it different?” 

“Cas is one of us, and besides I’m not asking you to leave anyone, Sam. I’m just asking for your help. A few days, a third set of eyes to help us find Dad. You can get into his head better than I can, always could.” 

“You’re seriously asking me to go back to that? After I got free, I got _out_? I got _away,_ Dean, you don’t _need_ me. Not anymore, never really did.” 

Dean strode forward then, away from Castiel’s comforting, calming hand on his back; his anger got the best of him and he closed in on his brother, stopping centimetres away. “So what?” Dean’s voice was hard, angry and just a fraction below a shout. “What? What are you going to do, _Sam_ , stay here and live some normal, apple pie life?” 

“Not normal, _safe_.” 

“Dad could be dead, Sam and you just want to forget that? Ignore that very real possibility when I’m here _asking_ for your help for just a few days? That’s it. Then you can go back to your _safe_ life. Or is it more important to you than your own blood?” 

Sam glared. “Don’t pull that shit on me, Dean. You don’t need my help and Dad sure as shit doesn’t want it. He’s the one who told me to stay away when all I wanted to do was go to college, in case you’ve forgotten. So that’s what I’m doing.” 

“Dad is in serious trouble right now, Sam. I want you here with me on this one. Yeah, maybe Cas and me could handle it on our own. _Maybe._ But that doesn’t mean we _want_ to. We’re a team, remember? Team Free Will? Or like you said when we were kids, the Three Musketeers, remember that? We work better together, Sam. Always have.”  

Sam sighed heavily and squeezed the bridge of his nose, then ran a hand through windblown hair before looking back up at Dean and including Castiel in his gaze. “So what are you thinking? Hunt gone sideways or something worse?” 

“We don’t know,” Castiel finally spoke up again. “I haven’t sensed any unusual activity lately and angel radio - when I chance tapping in - has been relatively quiet. As Dean said, a third set of eyes could be helpful.” 

“I’m hoping it’s just a hunt gone sideways but I’d rather we be playing with a full deck if it ain’t,” Dean added. 

“Dad didn’t ask you two along?” Sam wanted to know. 

“Couldn’t. Cas was checking out a lead on Gabriel and I was handling my own gig. Voodoo thing down in New Orleans,” Dean answered as he opened the Impala’s trunk and began shifting through contents. 

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “Dad let you go on a hunt by yourself?” 

“Dude, Dad ain’t my keeper. I’m twenty-six and have been frigging married for three years—” 

“–Four,” Castiel interjected. 

“Four years.” Dean continued seamlessly, “Stopped telling me what to do when I ran off with an angel.” 

Sam snorted. “You didn’t run off, you begged and pleaded until he agreed.” 

Dean smacked his brother on the chest. Hard. “Did _not_ beg and plead. I told him how it was and that I made my choice. He couldn’t really argue much, could he? Not like we wouldn’t ever be more than a quick hop on angel-express away if he ever really needed us. Besides who doesn’t want an angel up their sleeve? He knew Cas, he’d been a near constant fixture in our lives since I was sixteen, anyway.” Dean shrugged. Then quickly said, “But that really isn’t the point. Dad had a case over in Jericho. Haunted highway.” 

“Weeping Woman,” Castiel supplied. 

“Allegedly,” Dean glared, with no real heat. 

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Trust me, Weeping Woman.” 

“Well, whatever, Dad still wanted to check it out properly and he had to ID the chick anyway – if a Woman in White is really what’s going on there.” 

“It is,” Castiel said easily. 

There was another silent glaring match before Dean huffed and rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dear.” 

Sam snickered. “My God, are you two ever married. It’s adorable.” 

“Shut up, Sam,” Dean and Castiel said at the same time. 

xx 

Sam, having finally agreed, was inside packing. Jess had already gone through the questions of what and why now, which Sam patiently explained, or alluded to anyway. She was now sitting cross-legged on the bed, watching Sam pack. 

“So, your brother, not what I imagined when you told me he married another man,” Jessica remarked idly. 

Sam paused for a minute at that then continued packing and asked casually, “What do you mean?” 

“Well for one, he doesn’t look gay.” 

Sam laughed lightly at that. “I wasn’t aware there was a particular look.” 

Jess huffed, flushing slightly. “You know what I mean. By his look and his attitude – and this is just in my brief glimpse – totally a representative alpha male.” 

Sam shrugged a little. “Honestly, I don’t even know if he is or it’s just a Castiel thing, not that I’d care either way. I’m just saying they seem to have been together forever. Dean met him when he was thirteen. I don’t even really know when they starting ‘dating,’” you could hear the quotes in Sam’s tone. “I mean if you ask they’ll say when Dean was sixteen but that’s really just when Cas started being around all the time.” 

“What, so he just showed up one day and began following you guys around? You said you travelled a lot as a kid.” 

Sam shrugged again. “Well, that’s how it went.” 

“I’m not sure if that’s romantic or creepy,” Jess mused with a smile. 

Sam chuckled lightly. “Dad hated it to be honest. Cas already loo—” he cut himself off and corrected quickly, hoping Jess didn’t notice, “he was already twenty by then. Dad tried to run him off with a shotgun but he had his own car and kept coming. Dad didn’t know it then but Dean and Cas had been talking pretty consistently since they met. It was pretty platonic at first, because Dean was just a kid, but they kind of grew together. Dean ‘n’ Cas. Got to the point where I stopped referring to them as separate entities.” 

Sam contemplated silently for a moment then shook his head and continued, “Eventually, Dad just stopped trying, you know? Anyway, turned out that Cas was pretty useful to Dad’s line of work and just kind of stuck. I went to their wedding in Niagara Falls in 2001 when Canada legalized same-sex marriage. Dean’s idea. He tries to hide it but he’s a romantic at heart. Cas was content to live as they were.” 

Jess was silent for a few long minutes while she took that all in then asked, “So Cas is pretty good with machines then?” 

Sam blinked and looked up at that. “Huh?” 

“You said your Dad’s a mechanic and if Cas is useful, he must be pretty good with machines,” Jess elaborated slowly, slightly puzzled. 

“Right,” Sam replied quickly, “right. Yeah, Cas is good at fixing all kinds of things.” 

“But especially Dean, right?” Jess quipped cheekily. 

“Aww, gross. Jess! That’s my brother,” Sam wrinkled his nose. 

Jessica laughed, cheery and bright, then turned sly when she asked, “So, have you ever been interested in another man?” 

Sam paused. “What? Why?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, sometimes it runs in families and maybe picturing you with another guy is kind of hot,” Jessica’s eyes twinkled teasingly. 

“Jessica Lee Moore!” Sam mock-chastised, “I’m surprised at you!” He gently tackled her flat to the bed, enjoying her delighted squeals and began tickling. She giggled and tried to roll away from him on the bed but he held her fast and coaxed more laughter out of her. 

 “So why do they need you along anyway? I didn’t think you were much of a hunter. I _cannot_ picture you shooting Bambi,” she asked once they calmed down. 

Sam once again gave a little shrug, awkward but cute against the bedspread. “I’ve always been good at getting inside Dad’s head. Dean and Cas say it’s because Dad and I are so much alike, but I don’t believe it. I’m just observant. I’m nothing like my father.” 

“I dunno,” Jess said carefully, “I find the people who tend to say things like that protest too much.” 

“Is that a tidbit from Psych 101?” Sam asked neutrally. 

“Maybe a bit, but also let’s call it personal experience. I refused to think I was anything like my mother until I moved out here and got away from her. It was then I realised how wrong I was.” 

Sam squeezed her tight against him. He didn’t say anything else but internally he was still firmly convinced he was nothing like John Winchester. He held her for a few moments longer then sighed heavily and pressed a kiss to her wild blonde hair. 

“I should get going, before they send the search party after me,” he said, rolling off the bed. 

Jess sat up and nodded. 

Sam peered into his bag once again, sorted through it quickly, and then, apparently satisfied, zipped it up. He snagged his jacket from the chair and pulled it on, patting down his pockets. He paused when he reached his jean’s pocket, feeling a small raised bump of circular material under the denim. Castiel had tossed it to him just as he had been heading back in the house. It was a protection charm. 

 _To keep her safe._  

Sam appreciated the sentiment but he wasn’t sure exactly how he could explain it away to her. 

 _Safe_. 

Sam bit the bullet and reached into his pocket, pulling out the charm necklace. “Here,” Sam thrust it towards her, then thought better of it and looped it around her neck. 

“What’s this?” 

“Ah… good luck charm?” Sam gave a small smile. 

“I didn’t think you were superstitious.” 

“Oh I’m not,” Sam said hastily. “It’s actually from my brother-in-law. I mean he’s awesome, but he’s really eccentric.” 

“Yeah,” Jess said with a smile. “I gathered that when he gave me his Colombo jacket to cover my ‘maiden’ modesty and called me ‘Miss Moore.’ No one’s called me that since my high school principal when I was in trouble.” 

“You? In trouble?” Sam teased. “Don’t believe it.” 

“I had my wild days,” Jess winked. She fiddled with the charm. “You really want me to wear this?” 

“Yeah,” Sam said with a shrug not meeting her gaze. “What’s the harm, you know? If it’ll make Cas feel better… Also, _he_ said, uh… don’t take it off until we get back. Not even to shower or sleep, breaks the luck.” 

Jess snorted. 

“Please Jess? I suck at lying to him.” 

“All right, all right. For your brother-in-law. Things you do for love,” Jess relented. 

“Love you, too,” Sam smiled, leaning forward to kiss her again. 

She stood instead and came over to him, wrapping her arms tight around him, then pressing a deep, firm kiss to his lips. “Stay safe, Baby. Come back to me.” 

“You too, stay safe,” Sam replied. 

“What could happen?” Jess grinned. “Besides, I have my good luck charm.” 

“Jess,” Sam cautioned. 

“So maybe you are a little superstitious, huh? All right, all right. I promise. I’ll be careful and keep this on the entire time. Scout’s honour.” 

She began walking him back to the front door but Sam stopped her. “You go ahead back to bed, it’s all right.” 

She stopped at the bedroom’s threshold. “You’re sure?” 

“Yeah, good night,” Sam kissed her quickly again. She hesitated for only a second before nodding and heading back to bed. She paused just before climbing in. “Don’t be late for your Law School interview on Monday.” 

“I won’t,” Sam promised. 

She nodded and finally settled. He waited for her to get comfortable before flicking off the light and heading down the hall. He stopped in the middle of the living room and realised some of Castiel’s paranoia was rubbing off on him because he debated on adding a few more protections to their small apartment. He glanced back at the bedroom, bit his lip, then dropped his bag. 

Sam hurried to the kitchen and sorted through the pantry. Finding a box of salt, he took it back to the front room and scattered the white granules along the top of the doorframe and windowsills where Jess wouldn’t see it. Sometimes it paid to be tall. If she didn’t clean, it would remain undetected. Mostly satisfied, he picked up his bag and headed for the door again when he caught sight of Jessica’s bottle of clear nail polish discarded on the coffee table from the night before. Sam dropped his bag once more and took the bottle, kneeling at the small rug at the entrance; he tossed it aside and tried to remember the devil’s trap Castiel had taught him when he was eighteen. The angel had designed it himself; it was powerful. 

Sam sketched it out and blew on it frantically, wanting it dry, hoping Jessica wouldn’t come out of the bedroom for something. He capped the bottle then stood back, turning his head to see how visible the trap was. It glinted faintly in the low light. Sam tossed the rug back over it for good measure and finally headed out of the apartment, turning off the light as he went. 

“Gee, what’d you do, stop for a quickie, Sammy?” Dean teased when his little brother finally came back to the car. 

“Dean, get your mind out of the gutter. No, just last minute checks and I ah… put some protections up… against demons. You know, can never be too safe, right?” Sam replied uncomfortably. 

Dean actually grinned. “Good man, Sammy. Would have done the same.” 

“You did,” Castiel put in. “He had me ward the apartment while you were in there. Unless it’s something very old and very powerful, nothing will be able to get to Jessica while she’s at home.” 

Sam finally felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders and he smiled gratefully. “Thanks guys.” 

 _January 24 th, 1992_ 

Dean woke up feeling fuzzy and disoriented, only compounded by the fact that he seemed to be dangling and moving without actually _moving_. He jolted awake, struggling as he realised he was being held firm in someone’s iron-like arms. 

“Let me go! Let me go!” Whoever had him was either some creeper taking him to his evil sex den or Dean hadn’t been out too long because if whoever was carrying him was taking him back to the cabin, they should have been there by now. He hoped valiantly that it was the latter. 

“Shh, it’s all right,” the person or _thing_ that held him put him carefully on his feet. 

Dean stumbled away, much less gracefully than he had intended. His head was feeling cotton-thick and his stomach rolled uncomfortably but he surprisingly didn’t seem to be in any pain. Which was totally weird because he swore his leg and hip had been broken when the tree crashed down on him. He still wasn’t entirely sure how _that_ had happened. Dean, feeling whole and together, immediately discarded the thought that the ‘whoever’ had been carrying him was human because the pieces weren’t adding up for human and Dean knew the difference. His dad had made sure of it. 

Dean finally oriented himself enough to look not only at his surroundings but also at his apparent rescuer. He was a few strides away from the front door of their cabin, and another pace away from him was a teenage boy. 

Dean furrowed his brow and took another step back. The guy looked about sixteen or seventeen, he was probably pretty close to the height he would be in adulthood and was already losing the wiry appearance of youth. He also had a stern expression on his face that wasn’t mean or angry, it just seemed to be the way he looked – sober, firm. However, despite being nearly six feet tall and his fairly good build, he still didn’t look strong enough to lift not only a tree but to also carry a boy two-thirds his size the thirty feet from the edge of the wood. 

“What are you?” Dean asked immediately. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the young man said calmly. His voice was strangely rough, like he’d been yelling at a rock concert all night. 

“Yeah, heard that before, Buddy. I ain’t another helpless victim here – I _know_ things,” Dean threatened. 

The other boy smiled, almost as if he found the entire thing cute. Dean was a strange combination of embarrassed and pissed off at the reaction. 

“I mean it!” Dean said more firmly. 

“I know Dean, I believe you. I sat with you until I could tell you were close to waking and then carried you back here. I didn’t want to worry Sam. Are you all right?” 

At that little proclamation Dean’s heart beat double-time in his chest; his pulse picked up until he felt it throb in his neck as the blood rushed faster, priming for flight or fight. Dean had no weapons on him but he could probably get enough hits in to distract the thing before him and get away. He just needed to get behind that door and he would be safe; the entire cabin was edged in salt. 

“How do you know my name?” Dean demanded through gritted teeth. “What are you?” 

“My name is Castiel, Dean. I’m an angel of the lord and I’m here to protect you.” 

Dean ran.

 


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

_October 30 th, 2005_ 

Castiel had graciously given up the front seat for Sam and they’d been on the road for about an hour. Sam was once again subjected to Dean’s penchant for classic rock turned up way too loud. It wasn’t that Sam didn’t like classic rock, it was just that he preferred other music. Maybe it also reminded him a little too much of Dad. Dean was still wearing the jacket even, the old well-worn leather seemed almost too big on the older man but Dean wore it like a second skin. Even with an angel on his shoulder, he still needed his armour. 

“So how long have you and Cas been hunting alone?” Sam asked. 

“Since just after you left,” Dean shrugged. “I was a little mad at Dad for chasing you off like that so I took Cas and we went. Baby was mine after all, nothing keeping me tied to him anymore. My own wheels, my own angel. Thought Dad was gonna clock me one when I told him.” 

“Wow, I’m honestly shocked Dean. Never thought you’d do something like that. But obviously you three are on speaking terms again,” Sam observed. 

“Cas and me checked in on you a few months after you started school, saw you were happy and no worse for wear and I was satisfied. You seemed better off so I let it go. Didn’t forgive exactly, but let it go. Dad even apologised and said he wanted to do the same for you but he was afraid you wouldn’t answer.” 

Sam snorted bitterly, not believing that for a second, at least the part about him. “Yeah, right.” 

“It’s true, Sam,” Castiel said, leaning forward. 

“Maybe,” was all Sam conceded. “So you guys got a place, right?” 

Dean shrugged. “Sorta, I guess, we’re still just renting. Little bungalow in Sioux Falls.” 

“It’s blue,” Castiel said and he seemed inordinately pleased with that. 

“He likes that it’s blue,” Dean said needlessly. 

“Yeah, gathered that. Wow, my big brother settled down. Seems really strange, like it doesn’t fit,” Sam mused. 

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? Not really settled down anyway, just a home base. We still hunt, but it’s nice to have something to go back to that’s more than just a seedy motel bed which a thousand strangers have slept in. Lots of hunters have houses. More do than don’t.” 

“No, no, I know. Just… it was never our thing and now I guess it seems strange,” Sam shrugged. Suddenly Sam was taken over by a jaw-cracking yawn and he rubbed his itchy eyes. 

Smirking a little, Dean turned the radio to a soft rock station and lowered the volume a little. Sam rolled his eyes, but the gentle sounds soon began working their magic, pulling up memories of his childhood, his own special brand of lullaby as he drifted off to sleep in the Impala. 

“Get your beauty sleep, Sammy. Jericho is still a few hours out.” 

xx 

Castiel leaned forward along the back of the seat, playing absently with the short strands of hair at the nape of Dean’s neck. Dean even managed to refrain from telling him to put his seatbelt on. Castiel glanced over at Sam, making sure he was still asleep. 

“So, are you going to tell him?” Castiel asked. 

“About?”

“Don’t play dumb, Dean Winchester, you’re far from it.” 

“No.” 

“Dean—” 

“I said no, Cas. He doesn’t need to know, all right?” 

“But what if—” 

Dean locked his stern gaze with Castiel’s frustrated one in the rear-view mirror and said lowly, his voice rough, “ _No_. It has nothing to do with that. Dad’s probably just kicking back with Jack, Jim and José and lost track of time celebrating a successful hunt.” 

“Another young man disappeared,” Castiel said, eyes narrowed and angry. “If that was really the ca—” 

“Coincidence.” 

“Dean Winchester, you’re infuriating.” Castiel slumped back against the bench seat, then seemed to think better of it and in an instant he was gone. 

“ _Dammit_ ,” Dean growled, fighting to keep his voice low. Sam didn’t need to wake up and find himself in the middle of a spousal quarrel after all. Not to mention he would then start asking _questions_ and that’s something Dean had no interest in dealing with right now. He just wanted to find Dad and get back to life as usual. It would never be normal, but it was his and he _liked_ it. 

xx               

Dean had been driving with only Sam’s lullaby music to keep him company for the last few hours. The California sun had come up quick, warm and yellow maybe a half an hour earlier and Cas still remained a no-show. The shifting of light caused Sam to stir slowly from sleep; he rubbed his eye and looked around. Jericho was only about five miles out now, they’d be there soon. 

When Sam looked and saw Castiel wasn’t there, Dean was grateful that he didn’t question it. Sam knew vaguely of Castiel’s abilities but one he knew for sure was the ability of flight. It was how Dean and Cas kept in touch when Dean was growing up. That and Castiel’s head-hopping trick. It wasn’t exactly dream walking, as far as Dean understood it, Castiel was actually _in_ his head when he did it. Those had always been Dean’s favourite ‘dreams,’ especially the one when they fished from the dock on the lake. It took Dean back to his innocence and simple joys. 

“There’s no sign of your father at any morgue or hospital,” Castiel spoke up suddenly. 

“Jee _-_ sus _Christ_!” Sam shouted. He jumped so much in his seat that he actually knocked his head on the Impala’s ceiling. 

Castiel just stared levelly at the side of Sam’s head. 

Dean didn’t react to Castiel’s sudden appearance. Over the years his body had subconsciously started to recognize the signs of approaching angel, or at least Castiel. Dean always figured it was borne of familiarity and prolonged exposure. There was a dryness and a sizzle in the air along with the scent of disrupted ions just before Castiel appeared. It crept and tingled slowly along Dean’s skin, accompanied by the faint-but-audible sound of wings fluttering. 

“Well that’s something at least. And don’t you fucking disappear like that without checking in again,” Dean rebuked. 

“You can keep trying to tell me what to do, Dean, that doesn’t mean I have to listen. Given the situation, I thought it best I leave for a while. As a result I have further and heartening information.” 

Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Ah, everything okay guys?” 

Dean said ‘yes’ at the same time that Castiel answered, ‘no.’ 

“Oookay, not touching that one. So good, Dad’s not hurt or worse. Great.” 

Dean didn’t reply but he did slow the Impala down. There was a bridge up ahead that he was staring at closely. “Check it out,” he said. 

They saw the flashing lights before they were really close enough to recognize it any other way. There were several police cars up ahead and as they crawled closer, they saw there were also several uniform-clad investigators. 

Dean stopped the Impala and put it in park several feet away from the bridge. He leaned across Sam’s lap and dug through the glove compartment, pulling out two leather wallets and flicking them both open. He tossed one back at Castiel without looking and the angel caught it easily. Dean tucked the other in his inside left pocket. Sam only caught a flash of gold before the leather had been snapped shut but he’d bet cold money that they were forged badges. 

“Really, Dean?” the youngest remarked exasperatedly.

“Shut it, Sammy and stay here.” 

“What?” Sam demanded. “Why?” 

“Frankly Kid, you look too young to be a Marshal and besides, aren’t forged badges a little too far beyond your sacred moral code?” Dean replied. 

“Dammit, Dean. You drag me along and now you won’t even let me help? That’s a shit-move, Man,” Sam crossed his arms across his chest. 

“Sam,” Castiel tried. 

“ _You_ two dragged _me_ here. You guys said you _needed_ me. Or have we forgotten that already?” 

“Sam, don’t be a brat,” Dean glared. 

“Dean,” Castiel said cajolingly, “we’re wasting time, just let him come.” 

Dean looked like he was about to protest on principle alone and he was still pretty ticked-off at his spouse, but he managed to snap his mouth shut and grit out, “Fine, but hang back and let Cas ‘n’ me do the talking.” 

Sam got out of the car before making any promises, which resulted in Dean and Castiel having to hurry after him to meet up and beat Sam’s long, determined strides. Dean and Castiel managed to get in front of their younger brother just as they reached hailing distance. 

As they approached they overheard two of the officers discussing that their latest alleged victim was dating what seemed to be the one deputy’s daughter. Dean filed the information away for later and shared a look with Castiel. Sam looked around them for a hint or a clue. 

“You fellas had another one like this just last week,” Dean raised his voice a little so it would carry across to the officers. 

The one turned; he seemed to be the lead in the investigation. “You are?” 

“Federal Marshals,” Dean and Castiel flash their badges. Castiel’s was looked over with only a passing glance but ‘Jaffe’ (Dean saw on his nametag), lingered a little longer on Dean’s, staring at the younger man critically, then raised his brows to his hairline when he saw Sam. 

“And the kid?” Jaffe asked, nodding at Sam. 

“Work Study,” Dean replied quickly. “So, Deputy, what do we have? Not the first case you’ve had like this recently.” 

“No, there was another one about a mile up the road and more before that.” 

“Did I hear correctly, Sir? You knew the victim?” Castiel spoke up. 

Jaffe shrugged a little, just a bare movement of his shoulder and he looked away. “Small town like this, everyone knows everyone. Just how it goes. Never came across a vic or a perp I didn’t know socially. Unless, of course, they’re outsiders like you.” 

“So is there a connection then?” Dean asked. 

“Nothing that stands out, no,” Jaffe shook his head. 

“Do you have any theories so far?” Castiel questioned after that. 

“Hell if I know, Marshals. Don’t see much of this, really. Other cases were before my time. Serial murder, kidnapping ring?” 

Dean grinned widely. “Well that’s just the kind of crack police work I’d expect from you boys.” Dean grunted and was jostled slightly. The deputy looked none-too-pleased. 

Castiel stepped forward quickly. “Thank you very much for speaking with us, Deputy Jaffe.” 

Castiel steered both Winchesters away and glared silently at their backs. When they were a far enough out, Dean reached up and smacked Sam on the back of the head. 

“Ow, dammit, Dean! What was that for?” 

“Why’d you have to kick my ankle?” Dean retorted. 

“Why’d you have to talk to police like that?” 

“Children! The natives are getting restless. Stop it. Right now,” Castiel cut their bickering short. 

“Bite me, Cas,” Dean snarled. 

“What the heck is up with you two?” Sam wanted to know. 

“Nothing!” Castiel and Dean snapped back in unison. 

“Whatever,” Sam muttered. 

“Good,” Dean sniped. “Can we go?” 

They walked in tense silence back to the car, three doors slamming in succession. It was never comfortable when everyone in a confined space was angry at each other in some way. Sam wanted to say something to Dean and Castiel about their apparent spat but he wasn’t sure if his lack of presence in Dean’s life as of late left those rights revoked. 

Castiel wanted to talk to Dean civilly about their disagreement but he knew that even to attempt it right now was a lost cause. Dean didn’t like to talk under the best of circumstances. It wasn’t as if Castiel was terribly chatty, but he never liked bitterness between them. There was too much at risk. 

Dean on the other hand was ready to do bodily harm if anyone opened their mouth about anything. He was not in the mood for this shit, at all. He just wanted to go find a motel and maybe grab a beer or two – alone. 

Sam had other plans. “We should probably go find Amy.” 

“Who’s Amy?” Dean asked. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “The Deputy’s daughter. He was talking about her as we were walking up. She was dating the missing kid, Troy. Amy might have more to say. She seemed to be the last one who spoke with him. We could get more info on what’s going on.” 

“Dammit, you’re right,” Dean sighed. 

“That really isn’t necessary,” Castiel interjected. 

“Oh and why’s that, Fly-boy?” 

“I told you already, the case here is a Weeping Woman, or a Woman in White. Checking the country records would serve us better than bothering a young girl who probably knows nothing and is potentially grieving,” Castiel spoke with the hardness of forced civility. He really just wanted to shout at Dean and knock some sense in to him somehow. Sam needed to know the situation. There were no two ways around it. 

“Due diligence,” Dean shot back. “We’re gonna find that Amy chick.” 

“A waste of time,” Castiel retorted. “You can go without me.” Castiel patted down his pockets and then he was gone. 

“Dammit, Cas!” Dean shouted. 

Sam winced at the loud noise in the confined space. “Where… ah…” Sam began hesitantly, “where do you think he’s going?” 

“I don’t fucking care,” Dean replied, turning into town. Despite those words though, Sam saw Dean’s thumb come up to play with the white gold band on his left-hand ring finger, a sure sign he was more upset than he was letting on. Dean only fidgeted with his wedding band when something to do with Castiel was bothering him. 

xx 

Dean was pissed and that was an understatement. He was filthy, tired and smelled like a toilet. The damned ghost had hijacked his car and drove him into the drink when they went to check out the bridge the article at the library had told them about. By the looks of things it seemed more and more likely that the case involved what Castiel had said originally. Which meant Dean would have to admit to being wrong and which also meant that he had no reason to be filthy, tired and to smell like a toilet, because if he had listened to Castiel in the first place the angel would be by his side in bed right now and they wouldn’t have pulled an all-nighter ‘discovering’ everything Castiel already knew, apparently. Perhaps Dean had been hesitant to believe Castiel because he found it difficult to reconcile the fact that his father would have been tripped up by a little ghost hunt. 

On top of everything, Castiel still hadn’t shown and Dean was starting to worry. He knew it was kind of ridiculous to worry about an angel, but he couldn’t help it. It was hardwired into Dean’s DNA to be anxious about the people he loved. 

Dean pulled up to the first motel they came across and bemoaned the mess his impromptu swim had made of the Impala’s interior. The threadbare towel he had been sitting on helped a bit, but he’d still have to detail the entire thing when he had a minute, just on principle. 

Sam and Dean entered the motel and Dean had to give the guy behind the desk credit for not even blinking an eye at Dean’s state. The green-eyed man dropped his forged credit card on the desk and waited. 

“You guys here for a reunion or something?” the clerk asked. 

“Why do you ask?” Sam wondered. 

“’Nother Aframian. Burt, I think. Came in and bought out a room for the entire month,” the clerk explained. 

Dean met Sam’s gaze head on and pulled out his phone.

xx 

Dean and Sam had only been poking around John’s room for a few moments, shifting through tacked-up articles and assorted items when the tingling along Dean’s spine, the scent of ozone and the telltale flutter of wings alerted Dean to Castiel’s presence. 

“John—” 

“Shit!” Sam shouted, spinning around to glare at the angel. 

Castiel continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “Hasn’t been here for four days and I found no traces of him in town any longer. However, as you can see,” Castiel gestured to John’s research diorama, “I was right.” 

To see the affirmation of Dean’s earlier suspicions in black and white on the wall did nothing for Dean’s anger. He just gritted his teeth and nodded stiffly. 

“After all this time, Dean, I fail to understand how you continue to fault my word at every turn but believe your father at the drop of a hat. Regardless, Constance Welch. Yes, her husband did have an affair, he confirmed it in not so many words when I spoke to him earlier this morning. However, Mrs. Welch was cremated. That leaves the only logical conclusion being that there is a scrap of DNA that is probably now impossible to find, or that there is something else tying Constance Welch to this plane. I suspect she killed her children in a fit of grief over her husband breaking his marriage vows, though I don’t have confirmation on that as of yet. The spirit of Mrs. Welch won’t approach me. I don’t think you can term me unfaithful by any means. My being an angel might also dissuade her from appearing.” 

“Well don’t look at me, Dude,” Dean put up his hands. “Never been with another person in my life. Kind of don’t have much opportunity when you meet your future spouse at thirteen. Sammy?” 

Sam furrowed his brow and turned down his mouth for a second. “Well I can’t imagine cheating on Jess, but I have more, ah… partners under my belt than either of you so I may be the best bet. Not to mention the entire not gay thing I got going on.” 

Dean rolled his eyes at that one. Sure, he didn’t really know if he was gay or not. The exploration and experimental phase was kind of bypassed for him. All he knew was that he was in love with Castiel and Castiel was in love with him. Castiel wasn’t even technically a dude, but there was no point in arguing semantics with his brother. He just thought he was Cas-sexual and Cas was Dean-sexual. Simple as that. 

Dean scratched absently at his nose and then wrinkled it. He was still gross and needed to remedy that yesterday. “I’m going to get cleaned up.” He briefly considered heading to his and Castiel’s room but shrugged and headed to the bathroom here instead. When he opened the door, Sam’s voice made him pause. 

“What’s that?” the youngest asked. 

Dean turned to the just-revealed back of the bathroom door where there was a remnant of a sooty, circular mark. Dean swallowed and, eyes wide with panic, looked at Cas. Castiel’s face turned grim and he met Dean’s gaze. 

Dean swallowed again, flicking his eyes over to and then passed Sam. “Ah, dunno… Protection sigil maybe.” 

“Dean,” Castiel warned. 

“I need to get cleaned up, Cas,” Dean said quietly. He was too worried about this new revelation to be angry any longer. 

_January 25 th, 1992_

The morning after Dean’s strange little incident, he poked his head around the front door and squinted into the bright sunlight. It was slightly cool, but not unbearable. Dad had decided to take on a few hunts in the more Southerly locals of the United States. Dean stepped out onto still-green grass as he buttoned up his light flannel jacket and peered around the cabin. There was no telltale signs of what happened the previous night and the boy was about to pass it off as just a crazy dream. Just to check though, he went to the edge of the wood thirty feet from the house and gaped at what he saw. 

It wasn’t just one toppled log, it looked like a bomb site. There were fallen trees and detritus in a wide circle. The grass was deadened and scorched. The log he had sat upon the previous night was now little more than woodchips and Dean wondered how it got that way because he could have sworn it was whole and intact when it was slowly crushing his legs last night. 

Dean shook his head and began slowly backing away from the apparent battle field, only to shriek and flail wildly when he ran into something warm and solid. Dean looked up into the gentle face of the boy from last night. Not a dream then. 

“Good morning, Dean,” he greeted. 

Dean was prepared this time. He splashed holy water in the boy’s face and while he sputtered through his surprise, Dean slashed out with a silver knife, followed quickly by an iron one for good measure. The handful of salt was probably overkill but it was worth it to see the look on the teenager’s face at the end of it. 

Dean couldn’t help a light giggle that escaped his throat, but if asked later he would say it was a manly chuckle. 

“Are you satisfied?” his rescuer asked archly. 

“Well if you are a monster, it’s nothing I’ve heard of,” Dean finally admitted. “Hey!” He saw the once again pristine arms of the young man’s shirt, now completely void of blood or rips. “What the hell?” 

Castiel, (that’s what the other boy had called himself last night, Dean recalled) sighed heavily at that and held out his arm. “Do it again, I’ll show you.” 

Dean couldn’t help the look of disbelief he flashed Castiel, but shrugged and cut his arm again. The line of bright crimson dribbled out quickly after that, apparently staining through the damaged shirt in a small pool when suddenly, in the span of little more than a breath, both wound and cloth knitted themselves together and Dean’s rescuer was once again pristine. 

Dean licked his lips and met the blue eyes of the boy across from him before dancing his gaze away. “You… ah… you said you were an angel. P… prove it. ‘Cause no matter what Mom told me before she tucked me in at night, I think there’s no such thing. You’re just the same thing but ah… but bigger!” 

Castiel seemed to expect that and nodded, resigned. He walked around Dean until his back was facing what was left of the treeline. Dean shifted with the movement. The young man looked around and flexed his shoulders slightly, glancing briefly up at the sky before he closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. 

Gradually, the sky began to darken and the wind picked up, rustling what was left of the leaves on the trees around them. Dean felt a chill bite into his skin and he crossed his arms over his chest, hugging himself. Suddenly there was a low, rumble of thunder which Dean felt in the soles of his feet. He gasped when that thunder was followed by quick flashes of lightning and then stumbled back and away when he saw great, arching shadows painted across the bare branches of the still-standing trees that circled their cabin. Wings. It was the shadow of wings. 

Just as soon as the lightning and thunder appeared it cleared away again, returning the cheery sun to its position of honour in the sky and warming their clearing almost immediately. 

“You’re an angel,” Dean whispered, unable to hide the awe from his voice. “But why are you _here_?” 

“To help,” Castiel replied simply.


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

_October 31st, 2005_  

Dean had been in the shower far longer than was necessary. He was past clean, but the water was still hot and he couldn’t bring himself to go back out into that room. Not with all of Dad’s abandoned research and the burned-from-use angel banishing sigil on the door. What could possibly have happened that Dad had needed to use that? That awful mark that Castiel had only taught John on a whim because even if Castiel firmly believed it wouldn’t be used, it never hurt to be prepared. Now though, now it had been used and Dad was missing and none of that boded well. 

Dean heard the bathroom door open and shut quietly; he didn’t turn or open his eyes. Soon after, the shower curtain rings squeaked along the metal bar and Dean felt arms curl around his waist and a kiss pressed to his shoulder. 

“Where’s Sam?” Dean asked neutrally. 

“Gone to get food,” Castiel replied. He squeezed Dean tighter. “I’m sorry about being so insistent earlier. You know I’m only concerned.” 

Dean nodded once and turned his face up further in the spray of water. Castiel didn’t move and Dean made no effort to shake him off. 

“It’s just, keeping things to ourselves has a tendency not to work out in this household. Remember how you felt when I kept the existence of Adam secret? Not to mention that is yet one more thing you’ve decided not to tell Sam. Don’t you thi—” 

“This conversation was over before it started, Cas,” Dean said firmly, tense in Castiel’s arms. Well, the young man hadn’t used the angel’s full name yet, that was promising at least. 

Castiel took a deep breath, forcing himself calm. “I just fail to see, Dean - and please I only want to understand - why is it you are so very insistent about keeping the angels’ true designs away from your brother? Would he not be protected better with full knowledge?” 

“We are not going to tell him because he doesn’t have to worry about it, because we are going to stop it before it gets to that point and he is going to go back to Jessica and live out that apple-pie life he seems so desperate to have, because it is our job to protect him and our job to keep the monsters away. He doesn’t need to know because he’s not going to be involved,” Dean was forcing his voice to be even and controlled. 

It was possibly an unwise method they both employed to at least attempt to avoid a fight. They were both rather volatile by nature and were both concerned that things had the potential to get disastrous. They were perfectly un-perfect for each other. Wrapped up in a bizarre symmetry they both had yet to fully understand. They also loved with their whole hearts and sometimes that was dangerous. 

“I am not going to agree with you that this is the best decision but thank you for explaining it to me. I’ll respect your wishes.” Castiel pressed a kiss to the base of Dean’s neck, causing a shiver to trail through Dean’s entire body. 

“Cas, I’m not really…” Dean left it unsaid. 

“Yes, of course.” Castiel turned Dean gently and placed a chaste kiss to his lips, then stepped back and nodded once. 

However, before he managed to extricate himself from the shower and leave Dean to his privacy, Dean reached out and snagged Castiel’s hand, pulling him back and flush to his chest. 

“Thank you,” Dean murmured and kissed Castiel, this time a little firmer. Castiel was passive in the kiss, remembering Dean’s words earlier, but Dean’s hand fell to Castiel’s hip and his thumb brushed the sensitive ridge of Castiel’s hipbone causing the blue-eyed man’s hips to jolt forward involuntarily. Castiel pulled back at that and rested their foreheads together. 

“I should leave you now,” Castiel replied. “You said—” 

“Changed my mind,” Dean interrupted. 

“Dean,” Castiel cautioned. 

“Do you want to leave?” Dean asked pointedly. 

“You’re wet and naked and looking at me with those eyes of yours, Dean Winchester. Don’t ask stupid questions.” 

“Okay then,” Dean pulled Castiel back into another kiss and the angel sunk into it. He then took control suddenly and guided Dean back against the cool tile of the motel shower. The angel’s tongue came out to quest at the seam of Dean’s lips, which Dean opened willingly. The human’s one hand came up to curl into Castiel’s thick, dark hair; the other brushed once again along the sensitive skin of Castiel’s hipbone, but this time it trailed lower to the crease of his leg and Castiel’s hips stuttered forward again. The hand he had braced on the wall curled, nails scratching on ceramic. 

Castiel broke the kiss, but only long enough to latch his lips and teeth to Dean’s jaw. He enjoyed the scratch as his teeth dragged along light stubble and kissed lower until he found neck and bundles of nerves that made Dean stutter his hips against the older man. Castiel groaned at the slick contact and Dean’s hands tightened both in Castiel’s hair and on his hip. 

Castiel continued his gentle worship of Dean’s skin while Dean slapped around the shower’s shelving before finding what he was looking for. Water only did so much, Dean wanted more. He lathered his hand with the bar of soap he had found and dropped it carelessly to bottom of the tub. He tugged on Castiel’s hair until lips met lips again then slid his other hand between their bodies and gripped their erections with his now slippery hand. 

Castiel’s groan was lost in Dean’s mouth and Dean’s eyes fluttered slightly as the velvety skin of Castiel’s cock rubbed firm and warm against his own, cradled in his hand as he worked them together carefully. He squeezed slightly, teasingly and Castiel had to break the kiss with a grunt, slapping his hand against the tile wall to prevent anything louder from falling free of his lips. Dean made small groans of agreement and shut his eyes tighter as he worked them faster; Castiel’s hand convulsed where he gripped the firm curve of Dean’s ass. 

Their hips stuttered in a well-timed seesaw as they rutted against one and other under the miraculously still-warm water of the shower stream in the thick steam of the tiny washroom. 

“Dean, I…” Castiel panted. 

“Yeah, Babe,” Dean encouraged, feeling his own orgasm approaching quickly. He moved his hand faster, their thrusting hips grew more sporadic and then Castiel pressed his forehead firm against Dean’s shoulder and grunted; his hips locked as he released. Dean was breathing heavily now, waiting on the edge of his own release and all it took was Castiel batting his hand aside and working Dean’s cock by himself. 

Dean pulled Castiel tight to him, their cheeks together, one hand still locked in Castiel’s hair, the other pressed to the curve of Castiel’s spine as he came with a lowly muttered, “Fuck.” 

“I think I needed that,” Dean murmured sleepily, the water of the shower little more than lukewarm now. 

Castiel nodded with a low, “MmmHmm,” of assent. He cleaned them up quickly and shut off the water, then pulled Dean by the hand to the edge of the shower curtain. He handed Dean a towel and kept one for himself, debating on tucking Dean into bed for some much-needed rest or dragging Dean out for some much-needed sustenance. Bed was looking to win out over the sheer possibility of having Dean in his arms for a few uninterrupted hours, when Dean’s cell rang. 

Dean and Castiel locked eyes and Castiel hurried across the room to retrieve it. “Hello?” 

“Dude, get out of there, _now_. Place is crawling with police… Shit they—” 

“Sam?!” Castiel demanded. 

Dean, tiredness forgotten, ran over and snatched the phone away. “Sam? Sammy?!” 

Castiel grabbed two bundles of clothing and didn’t wait for Dean’s consent, he merely reached out and wrapped his arms around the slightly larger man, flying them clear of the room. 

xx 

“I’m well aware of my rights, Sheriff and have requested a lawyer. My talking officially ends here,” Sam said calmly. He was in a small interrogation room, sitting in a steel chair pushed flush against a steel table. It was quaint, even had a window. It was one of the nicer interrogation rooms he’d seen, actually. That window could be useful as well, if he could manage to get the sheriff out of here. 

“Big lawyer boy, eh? Checked up on you, Sam. Well, does it say anything in the lawyer handbook about me not talking? ‘Cause I tell you, Kid, I got a shit-load to say. First, I’m going to start by talking about the faces of ten missing persons taped on your wall. Mighty interesting that is.” 

Sam wanted to let loose with a snarky comment about how he was a fetus when the first victim went missing in eighty-two but managed to bite it back. Dean was the one who liked to sass, Sam was keeping to the rules. 

“Nothing? Well, that’s fine. I know you ain’t in it alone, anyway. Them other two guys you were with on the bridge, the fake marshals. The older guy’s probably about thirty and still a bit young but there was another outsider poking his nose where it didn’t belong a few weeks ago. He sure took off in a hurry, too. Left some interesting things behind. Makes me wonder, what is it about you that makes everyone so eager to throw you under the bus, huh? Also leaves me to wonder which two of those fags is your brother. Dean, isn’t it? And Castiel – strange as fuck name. So which ass do you think your brother’s more eager to save? Clearly ain’t yours or you wouldn’t be sitting here, would you?” 

Sam almost had to physically restrain himself from spewing the stream of vitriol those callous, bigoted words prompted in his mind. He would _not_ rise to the bait. He knew how the game worked, knew it all too well. He also cursed himself absently for carrying his real ID when he was on a job. 

“Tell you, Kid, lots of weird shit in a little book I happened to stumble upon, you might recognise it,” the sheriff tossed a tan leather journal on the table, the bulging curves landing with a heavy thud. Sam swallowed. 

“Weird ass shit, but also interesting. Especially this little tidbit here,” the sheriff flicked open the book to one of the pages near the back. On the otherwise blank note page was scrawled a set of numbers divided by a hyphen. Sam stared at his father’s journal – just out of reach – feeling his stomach coil uneasily, but he ignored it and just turned a level gaze on the sheriff, meeting him right in the eye. 

The sheriff tried to match the stare down but Sam was used to this battle of wills and he crowed internally when the sheriff grimaced and stormed from the room. 

 _Earlier That Afternoon_                

Castiel didn’t fly them very far. As great as the encroaching danger was, human police were little match for an angel, it was other angels that had Castiel concerned. Flight was minimal in angels’ scope of power but an extended flight still had the potential to draw unnecessary attention, especially with the new discovery that angels had been in the area recently. Not to mention that Castiel had been taking more advantage of that particular power in the last few days than he normally would have. Castiel therefore thought of the closest place out of danger and transported them to the vacant room right next to John’s.  There should be no cause to search it. 

Castiel handed Dean a set of clothes wordlessly, which Dean took equally silent. His face was dark, brooding and far more familiar than Castiel would like to admit. Dean was worrying about Sam, and when Dean was worrying about Sam there was nothing that could avert his attention until he was satisfied that Sam was safe and out of harm’s way. He couldn’t blame the hunter though, Castiel worried just as much. Dean slid into jeans and pulled on the blue plaid shirt Castiel had handed him, leaving it unbuttoned over a darker blue t-shirt. Unbeknownst to Castiel, he too had picked up a blue shirt for himself, he shrugged and buttoned it, leaving it open at the neck. They shared clothes so often that they had lost track of which items had originally belonged to whom. 

“Plan, need a plan. Something that will leave Sammy alone long enough for you to pop in there and grab him. We also got to get out of here and near the police station without drawing too much attention from _anyone_.” Dean was restlessly pacing the small dark space, running a hand through his hair at regular intervals. The wet locks were sticking up and spiking at odd angles. Castiel swallowed and realised it really wasn’t an appropriate time to find Dean so damn sexually alluring. 

Sam, focus on Sam. 

“If we do a series of short jumps, we can get away from here undetected. As for getting the police away from the station…” Castiel trailed off, uncertain. 

“Shit, they’re probably going to impound the car too. Shit, shit, shit. We’ll have to steal her back,” Dean muttered. Castiel nodded firmly, not about to argue leaving the car behind to ensure their safety. 

In all honesty, if Dean lost the Impala he’d probably feel as if he’d lost a limb. Castiel wasn’t too proud to admit that he’d feel the same way. She was home, easily more-so than their little rented house. They lost their virginity together in her backseat, not to mention the years of history before Castiel even came into the lives of the Winchesters: Sam and Dean’s initials under the vinyl and foam of the back seat, the army man in the ashtray, the rattle of the Lego blocks in the heating vent; the creak of the doors, the purr of her engine and the rumble of her body below them as they drove down two lane blacktop, whether for the fight, for the journey or just to drive. It was almost silly to have that much attachment to a car but Castiel wouldn’t have it any other way. She was part of Dean and Dean was part of him. 

“Of course,” Castiel nodded. 

Dean snapped his fingers suddenly, meeting Castiel’s eyes. He smirked a little wickedly. “I’m a bit of an idiot for not thinking of this sooner, but getting the cops outta there is actually real easy. Fake nine-one-one call. In a one horse town like this, the whole precinct will be on a shooting tip like starving animals. You take me somewhere out near the edge of town and I’ll play decoy if they seem like they’re gonna give up and head back before you get Sammy and Baby out of lock-up.” 

Dean heard some of the bustle and activity calm down around them and chanced a glance out the shuttered window at the front of the motel room they were holed up in. His eyes widened and he grinned turning back to Cas. 

“Well that’s surprising – fantastic – but surprising,” Dean remarked. 

“What?” Castiel asked. 

“Cops seem to be clearing off but I guess Sam was away from the Impala when he managed to call. They left it where it was. He’ll have my keys on him but the spare is in my wallet. Have they left?” 

Castiel walked over to the motel rooms’ adjoining walls and pressed his palm flat against the chipped yellow paint which had been white in another lifetime. Before Castiel could confirm or deny, he was gone in the span of a blink, Dean’s wallet retrieved, still muck-laden from the tumble in the river. Dean could understand why the cops hadn’t been too inclined to check it. Leather didn’t smell any better with river water and mud coating it than human beings did. Dean shook it off, wrinkling his nose. Castiel went to the bathroom to retrieve a cloth and handed it to the younger man. 

“A few officers appear to have remained on scene outside of the door and around the perimeter of the building. I’ll distract them to ensure that you can get to your car and then get away. Try and find the poor spirit of Mrs. Welch while I get Sam. We’ll meet you at mile marker 33 once I have him. One hour?” 

“She’s not going to come after me, Cas,” Dean shrugged. 

“She may try,” Castiel offered. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dean demanded, suddenly furious. 

Castiel sighed and replied calmly, “I only mean that she may attempt to go ‘off-book’ in her desperation. If she senses you’re there to destroy her, she might be inclined to try and destroy you first. I don’t have any concerns that you’d ever be unfaithful, Dean. We _are_ running out of time and options though. That sigil could only mean one thing and I’d like to get back to finding your father as quickly as possible, don’t you?” 

Dean, who had deflated at Castiel’s explanation, met blue eyes fleetingly. “Now who’s asking stupid questions?” Dean muttered petulantly. 

“We should go. Give me a moment, then start the car and go,” Castiel reached out and laid his hand on Dean’s shoulder, sending the hunter quickly into the Impala’s front seat. 

xx 

The sheriff had left Sam alone for what had to have been a half an hour at least; his legs were beginning to cramp, his form far too large for the steel table and chair combination. His movement was also limited by the cuffs around his wrists, which were chained to the table. To say that Sam was getting annoyed was an understatement. He felt his jaw creaking and teeth throbbing as he clenched his jaw tight in an effort to remain as calm as possible. He tended to have slight anger control issues when his back was against a wall but he hadn’t experienced it since before he left for Stanford. Losing it now would not be conducive to his defence. 

When Sam felt as if he were about to crack, the door opened again. Sam turned to see one of the deputies coming in, an amiable grin on his thin lips, a cup in his hand. The deputy set the cup down near Sam’s cuffed wrists, then released them and took a seat across from him. Sam guessed it was time for ‘good cop.’ 

Sam mentally sighed, already more than done with this entire affair. “Thank you for the water.” 

“You’re welcome,” the deputy replied. He was idly flipping through John’s journal and Sam’s hands itched to smack the precious leather volume away from the man. 

The deputy whistled low then remarked, “Wow, Kyle really wasn’t joking when he said there were some strange things in here.” The deputy stopped at one particular entry and wrinkled his nose, sliding the book across the table, now within Sam’s reach and tapping one of John’s sketches. 

“Jeeze,” the deputy said, “what the heck is that?” 

“Says right there, Sir, Wendigo,” Sam didn’t offer anything the deputy couldn’t discover for himself by seeing the page. 

“Huh.” The deputy shook his head, either genuinely bewildered or making a good show of it. He then turned his congenial smile back on Sam. “Look, Son, I know these boys are your family and at one point y’all seemed real close, but what have they done for you lately? I ain’t heard squat from none o’ your folk. Seems to me that says they’ve just left you here. In the wind as far as we can tell. So why don’t you do yourself a favour, huh? Just answer our questions, point the finger at the guilty party – we know it sure ain’t you, Boy – and then you’ll be on your way and your so-called family will get the justice they deserve. You tell us their story and we can make a good little deal with the prosecution for you. Promise.” 

“I still don’t have a lawyer next to me which means, _Sir_ , I’m still not talking,” Sam said firmly. 

“Aw, Son, don’t be like that, I thought we could be real social ‘bout this,” the deputy cajoled. 

“Sure thing, Deputy, I’ll be as social as you want when I have my lawyer next to me. The three of us can be nice and social together.” 

“Well you see, Son, the public defenders’ office is real backed up right now and they’ll be a bit of wait for one of them lawyers. I thought we could wrap this up right quick and not worry ‘bout losing all this time. I’m sure you being so forthcoming and eager to speak will look real good when we make that deal for you.” 

“And I’m sure you trying to coerce me out of getting a lawyer will look _real good_ on you, and this fine Police Department, Deputy,” Sam’s smile was sickly sweet. 

He finally saw the Deputy’s cool façade crack. His left eye twitched and his carefully constructed grin slipped. Sam counted it as a personal victory but didn’t allow himself to react outwardly. 

The deputy put his hand firm on the table and reared off of his seat, leaning in towards Sam. “Now you listen here, Boy—” 

The door opened and a constable stuck his head in, looking nervous. 

“What?” the deputy snapped. 

“Well, Sir, we had a call come in about shots fired over on Whiteford. The Sheriff wants all hands, Sir,” the constable said nervously. 

“Dammit,” the deputy muttered. “You gotta go to the bathroom, Boy?” 

Sam furrowed his brow, then carefully answered, “No.” 

“Good.” The deputy came around the table and cuffed Sam back to the table, then followed the constable out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. 

Sam groaned and flopped his head backwards, the back-rest of the chair not tall enough to block the movement. Sam let himself hang there in that awkward position, eyes half lidded until he caught a glint in the fluorescent lighting of the interrogation room. 

He sat up quickly and saw a paper clip wedged carefully between the pages of his father’s journal. 

“Yes,” Sam whispered. Freedom at last. 

It didn’t take long for Sam to free himself, shove the journal in his coat pocket and break the lock on the window behind him. It was a small town and a small PD and they probably didn’t have the funds for barred windows, or windowless rooms for that matter. He was on the second story of the building, cells and reception down below, but there was a fire escape leading from the room. Sam made quick use of it and touched onto the concrete below. He turned away from the building and nearly jumped out of his skin. 

“Hello, Sam,” Castiel said calmly. “I’m here to rescue you.” 

“Ah…” Sam looked at Castiel, then back to the building before turning eyes on Castiel again. “Thanks?” 

Castiel looked like he was about to reply, then thought better of it. He took a few steps forward and reached out his hand towards Sam’s forehead. 

“Whoa, wait, wait…” Sam suddenly realised something. “Don’t tell me that you faked a nine-one-one call?” 

Castiel looked far too innocent to be innocent. “We should go,” the angel remarked instead. 

When Castiel’s warm, dry fingers touched his forehead, Sam braced for flight. 

xx 

Dean was driving along the highway, trying to draw out Constance Welch. His fingers were drumming absently on the steering wheel, music turned low for a change. He hoped Cas got to Sammy all right. Almost as if Dean’s thoughts were a silent cue, his phone rang. 

Dean reached for it immediately. “Cas? You got him?” 

“I need your precise location,” Castiel answered. “We’ll com—” Dean heard muttering and scuffling down the line, he pulled the phone away and looked at it, seeing if his signal bar was low when he heard Sam small disembodied voice clear on the line. 

“Dean, we gotta talk,” Sam said urgently. 

“Glad you’re all right, Sammy!” Dean said, relief clear in his voice. 

“Yeah, we can do that later, but you need to listen to me right now. Dad—” 

“Jesus fuck!” Dean shouted suddenly, dropping his phone and interrupting his brother. He slammed on the brakes, wincing as he felt the shudder clear through the Impala. 

“Dammit! Would you watch it, Lady?!” Dean yelled impotently at Constance’s spirit. 

She was suddenly in the back seat. Her voice was low, coaxing and breathy, “Take me home.” 

“No fucking way!” 

xx 

“Shit!” Sam shouted, staring at the phone. “Dammit!” 

“Sam?” Castiel took the small device back from his brother-in-law and tucked it away. 

“Shit!” Sam repeated. Then, “I think Constance got to him. I heard him shout at something then the brakes squeal, then the phone seemed to short and fizzle out. EMF interference I think. Can you find him? Shit. I should have let you get his location before I took the damn phone from you. God, what an idiot. Please, Cas, tell me you can find him.” 

Castiel nodded a little stiffly. “Yes, I should with a little bit of effort. I placed a provision in the scoring on his ribs that allows me to know his vague location, even though he’s fully concealed from other angels. It isn’t exact but it _is_ within a hundred yards. It allows me to find him quickly enough when we get separated. Come.” 

“Cas- ” Sam began, then fingers touched his forehead and the world shifted. 

Constance had once again taken over control of the Impala and Dean was beyond ready to gank the bitch for messing with his baby not only once, but _twice_. He glared at her in the mirror as she stared up at the large run-down house she had delivered him to. She had a haunted look on her face and that triggered something in Dean, the beginnings of an idea. What was that she kept saying? 

“I can never go home,” she repeated again morosely as if answering Dean’s unvoiced question. 

“You’re scared,” Dean observed, more to himself than the spirit. 

“I’m so cold, hold me,” she murmured, materializing on Dean’s lap and causing him to flinch away. 

“Look, Lady, I’m just not into you, all right? Would you quit it?” Dean would have pushed her away if she was tangible, but it appeared she was only able to touch him and not vice versa. He felt her cold hand dig into his chest and fought the shudder. 

“You seem like a real sweet girl, but I’m taken. Not unfaithful, never have been. Hell, never even had sex with anyone other than my—” 

She reared away suddenly and grabbed his face with both hands, peering into his eyes. “So, so young. Like me. I was so, so young. Temptation will come, it always does. You’re still a man.” She scoffed suddenly, “Not unfaithful? You will be.” 

Dean opened his mouth to protest again but she was already leaning forward, plunging spirit-fast towards him. He felt her icy lips against his and recoiled on instinct but he was flat against the Impala’s back rest and had nowhere else to go. Dean felt a flash of panic, his stomach roiling with guilt when she kissed him and that must have been her moment of opportunity. She grinned, her face twisting horribly and pressed razor-edged nails into the smooth flesh of his chest. He grunted at the pain that wracked his entire body from that five-point contact but managed to bite back a cry. 

Dean’s vision was blacking slightly around the edges as the pain gradually overwhelmed him; Constance leaned closer and closer, pressed harder and harder until Dean swore he could feel the icicle-like digits scratching along his already well-marked rib-cage. Just when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore he heard a low, rough voice: 

“No!” 

Dean squinted open heavy eyes and saw the familiar silhouette of Castiel; his hand was held ready to strike and send Constance’s spirit to whatever was waiting for her. Dean fuzzily acknowledged that Castiel moved to lean protectively across the younger man and protect him from the angel ray beam he was preparing. Castiel didn’t seem to get that far however; Constance shrieked and blinked out of view. 

Dean heard Castiel curse as if it were travelling through water. Then he felt a _whoosh_ of air and he was resting on a warm lap, in comfortable arms, gradually regaining his faculties. 

Constance shrieked again and Dean was able to sit up now as Castiel carefully healed him. He saw her hand slam against the window of the Impala and leave a frosty print behind. 

“I can never go home! I can never go home!” she wailed. 

Dean almost saw the moment that Sam’s brain clicked over into idea mode. The youngest immediately raced for the Impala and clambered in before either angel or big brother could stop him. The former occupied by the latter. 

“Sam?!” Dean found his voice again and managed to shout. 

“I’ll take you home!” Sam exclaimed. “Just wait.” 

In morbid slow motion, Dean watched the Impala’s rear tires spin for long, painful seconds before they finally managed to grip the damp grassy ground. Then almost as if pushed, the Impala darted forward right through the crumbling wooden front wall of the old house. Castiel and Dean stared after it numbly before they both jolted to their feet at once and ran into the gaping hole. 

“Sam?!” 

“Sammy!?” 

“Sam.” 

“Sam, Sammy, are you all right?” Dean was at the door of the Impala and Sam nodded shakily, his head turned slowly and he stared at Constance. She was standing in front of a fallen portrait and looking at it with an inscrutable expression on her face. 

Dean helped Sam out of the car and Castiel moved forward, ready to destroy the spirit but Sam’s hand launched out and stopped the angel. Constance looked at them suddenly, flinging both Winchester boys across the room but Castiel remained solid. He cocked his head, then turned when he heard the strained gasping and rushed to help Sam and Dean move the solid furniture both were being pinned with. 

It was easy enough to get them out from behind the credenza, angel strength no match even against a clearly distraught Woman in White. When he was about to deliver the finishing blow, however, he was once again stopped, but this time by the slow trickle of water that began making its way down the dilapidated staircase. 

The hunters turned almost as one to look up at the landing where two young children, a boy and a girl, stood hand-in-hand. Castiel stepped protectively in front of Sam and Dean. 

“You’ve come home to us, Mommy,” the spirit children spoke in unison. 

Dean shuddered and edged closer to Castiel, pulling Sam along with him. The ghost kids never failed to get to any of them. They were creepy little bastards. It also seemed to hurt extra when they did encounter them because most of the time the twisted little ghosts got that way through no fault of their own. They were rarely anything but victims, even among the dead. 

“Jesus,” Dean muttered. 

“This is where she did it,” Sam whispered, his voice a mix of sadness and revulsion, heard even in the hushed tones. 

They turned their gazes back to Constance, curious for her reaction and were surprised to find her looking terrified. The spirit children moved then - quicker than Dean or Sam could catch - and Dean saw Castiel tense, preparing to fight if he had to. The children had no interest in the hunters, though. Instead they curled their gray little bodies around Constance, holding her tightly. Constance screeched. Dean and Sam flinched away from the piercing sound. Gradually, the children began to drip faster, the liquid bleeding into Constance, distorting her body. It wasn’t long before she was little more than a puddle on the floor along with the two children and soon that too disappeared into the floorboards, seeping away. 

“God, this is where she drowned her kids,” Dean remarked, repeating Sam’s half spoken words from earlier. 

“Which is why she could never go home,” Castiel added grimly. 

“She was too scared to face what she did,” Sam concluded. 

Dean rounded suddenly, turning back towards the Impala. “Well, gotta give you credit for finding that crazy bitch’s weak spot but dammit, Sam, if you put one scratch on my baby…” 

“I didn’t, Dean!” Sam sputtered back. 

Castiel listened as their words devolved into squabbling and shook his head fondly. 

xx 

Dean was lying on his side, facing Castiel, already half asleep that night when Constance’s words buzzed across his fuzzy consciousness. He opened his eyes and stared at Castiel for a moment until the angel looked up from his book and peered down at the sleepy human. 

“Hey Cas? You think I was too young?” 

“Too young?” 

“Yeah, when we got together and stuff, do you think I was too young?” 

“Do you think you were too young?” 

Dean shrugged awkwardly from where he lay and shifted his gaze away while he thought. “Not really, I just wonder what I would be like sometimes if we hadn’t met when we did. Constance said something about me being so young when we hooked up and well, sorta wondered if you ever think of sleeping with different people. Not that I think you _would_ , but have you _thought_ about it?” 

Castiel closed his book quietly and set it aside. He scooted down and turned on his side until he was eye level with Dean. He reached across the small space between them and brushed his thumb gently along Dean’s full lower lip. 

“Until I met you, I never once thought or wondered or was even remotely interested in sexual relations. Then I met you, and something changed. Perhaps it was Jimmy’s hormones influencing me, or perhaps it was just you. But I can honestly say that no, I never once considered the idea of carnal relations with any other being – human or angel. Have you, Dean?” 

Dean shrugged a little again. “Maybe in the back of my mind but no one really holds any interest, you know? I don’t know, I guess I just find it a little strange that I’m a twenty-six year old guy with one partner under my belt and no desire to dip my toes in foreign waters. I suppose I wonder more what kind of crap life I would have if I hadn’t met you when I had. Maybe I’d be some lame pathetic virgin,” Dean grinned. 

“Nothing wrong with virginity, Dean,” Castiel chastised gently. 

“I know, poor choice of words I guess,” Dean mumbled. “Think I would be, though? I mean if you’re the only person I’ve ever wanted and I never met you, think I wouldn’t have ever, you know, done anything about sex?” 

“We can ask ourselves all the ‘what-ifs’ without ever arriving at the answer. Who knows? Perhaps you would be some womanizing drifter who’s never had a relationship that lasted longer than a month,” Castiel teased. 

“That would be sad,” Dean said. “Never experiencing a proper relationship with someone. Sounds lonely.” 

“It would be your choice though, and no matter what, even if we met later and that was the case, I would love you anyway.” 

Dean rolled his eyes but he still had a bit of a smile on his face. “I think that’s enough chick-flick moments for the night. Too tired for this.” 

Castiel chuckled lightly. “The only time I’m allowed to get away with these sorts of conversations is when you’re this tired. Go to sleep, Dean.” 

Dean yawned and nodded, but then his eyes shot open again. “Wait though, we need to figure out a game plan with Dad. That angel sigil was real and used and Sam said there were coordinates left behind in the journal. Not to mention Dad even _leaving_ the journal behind. He takes that thing _everywhere_.” 

“John being able to leave the coordinates behind can only be a positive thing, Dean. If something worse had happened to him then we would have no knowledge of it. The sigil was used, which means that the angel or angels that had been there were banished. In the morning we’ll take Sam home and make plans from there. For now, you really need to sleep.” 

Dean was half gone already but he was still fighting it like a child. “Take Sam home?” 

“He has the interview, Dean. We promised we’d get him home in time for it,” Castiel reminded gently. 

“Dammit,” Dean muttered. “I don’t wa—” 

“Sleep, Dean. Worry tomorrow,” Castiel encouraged, interrupting. 

“Pretend for me?” 

Castiel nodded at the sweet request and eased closer to Dean, curled his arm around the green-eyed man’s hip and rested their faces close together, foreheads nearly touching. Castiel watched until Dean’s heavy eyes drifted shut before Castiel allowed himself to close his eyes as well and drift in the faint, almost-unconsciousness that was the closest thing to sleep that he was capable of. 


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

_November 2 nd, 2005_               

Dean could easily admit that he didn’t want to take Sam back to school, which explained why he was in the passenger’s seat that evening and Castiel was behind the wheel. In one of Dean’s more petulant moves he refused to give the keys up when Sam demanded. When Sam threatened to take a bus back, Castiel quite literally wrestled the keys out of his husband’s pants. As the angel stormed from the room he grumbled about childish humans who had the nerve to call _him_ a child on more than one occasion. 

“What, Dean, you really think he wouldn’t go in after them? Considering all the things you guys probably get up to, reaching into your jeans is tame,” Sam laughed. 

“Oh, so you’re all right with imaging brother-sex now? Would you like me to paint you a picture? Because I can, you know, in vivid detail. Won’t spare the sound effects either,” Dean snarked in return. “I’ve been brushing up on my onomatopoeia and everything.” Dean fell into a sullen pout at Sam’s eye roll and Castiel just sighed as he turned up the radio. 

Dean was well-aware that he was acting childish, and perhaps he gave himself more leeway to do so now and then given that he didn’t have to concern himself with being the oldest and most mature now that Castiel was in the picture. Castiel, too, had his moments of naiveté, or those times when something just managed to escape his understanding. Despite Dean’s sometimes-regression however, he was still in this state for the same reasons as always. He needed to protect Sam, plain and simple. Ever since Dad had pushed that squalling bundle into his arms and told him to run, Dean knew that Sam was his responsibility. 

There had been times in the past where Sam and Dean had been accused of being co-dependent but neither of them really cared. Just because it didn’t work for most people didn’t mean it didn’t work for Sam and Dean. Things were a little tricky to navigate once Castiel came into the picture but Sam warmed up to the older boy quickly, and perhaps there was a slight bit of admiration there as well. Sammy had always believed in angels. Despite Castiel’s brothers, Castiel wasn’t a dick and fit Sam’s understanding of angels more accurately than perhaps Dean should have allowed his little brother to believe – allowed Sam to believe because Dean had never really shared the truth about angels with the younger boy. That then brought him back to the problem at hand. 

Dean’s inability to express his concern over Sam’s welfare arose because Dean had never expressed the very true concerns about Sam’s welfare to Sam. Namely that angels - as stated - were dicks, and they wanted Sam and Dean if not dead then on lockdown. Castiel hadn’t been one hundred percent sure when he fled Heaven that night to save Dean. 

 _February 13 th, 1992_ 

Dean was sitting with his legs through the safety bar on the spinning wheel in the park. They had moved on from warmer climates and were once more where snow was a regular thing. The wood was frozen beneath his well-worn jeans and his mittens were doing little to protect his hands from the icy chill of the metal bar where he rested them, but that wasn’t what his concern was. He had his eyes squeezed shut tightly and was whispering Castiel’s name over and over again. 

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel’s voice sounded very close. 

Dean nearly screamed when the angel suddenly appeared beside him, but he was able to quickly cover it up with what he hoped was a manly sounding cough and not a pathetic choke. 

“Dammit, Castiel! Don’t do that, a little warning please?” Dean glared. 

“How do you propose I warn you? You called for my appearance, I expected you to expect me,” Castiel seemed genuinely confused and also looked out of place sitting next to a bundled-up Dean in nothing but ratty jeans and an equally fraying t-shirt. 

“Dude, you can’t just show up in the middle of winter dressed like that; people will look at you weird.” 

Castiel looked down at the clothing and then turned back to Dean. “This is what my vessel was clothed in. I had no choice in the matter.” 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Dean broke in suddenly, anger in his tone. “What the hell do you mean by vessel? Don’t tell me that body belongs to some poor bastard.” 

Castiel’s near perpetual frown deepened. “It may sound the same at its core but it isn’t like demon possession if that is what you are concerned about, Dean. Young Jimmy Novak is a very devout boy. He prayed for this. I could not enter without his consent and my gracious host is not awake.” 

Dean tried not to react to the fact that demons actually possessed people and seemed to be able to fool everyone that they were normal. That’s what Dean gathered at least. He knew the basis of possession, he knew demons and ghosts could do it, but he figured it was more of an _Exorcist_ barfing pea-soup kind of deal. Dean made a note to question Castiel about that later, but he had more pressing matters in mind. 

“Well, whatever, just go grab one of Johnny’s coats or something. I don’t want people asking questions if anyone walks by,” Dean ordered. 

“Jimmy.” Castiel corrected. “I’ll return momentarily.” 

Dean kept a close watch on the spot where Castiel disappeared in order to not be startled again but the damned angel appeared at his other side instead and Dean jumped anyway at the lowly spoken: 

“Hello, Dean. Now why did you call?” 

Castiel did retrieve a coat like Dean asked but it didn’t seem to be a very good one. It was shabby and a bit too small and looked to be more of a spring jacket than one that was suited to mid-February in New York State. 

Dean rolled his eyes. “I guess it will do from far away, but next time get a _winter_ jacket.” 

“This is the only jacket Jimmy possesses,” Castiel replied. 

“Where does he live?” Dean asked. 

“Illinois.” 

“Jesus,” Dean murmured. Kid must freeze half to death, half the time. Dean wondered briefly what circumstances would have to occur for a teenage boy to only have one light jacket that didn’t even fit him right. He briefly entertained the thought of asking, but he’d already been out quite a while as it was and Dad told him he was only allowed to go for a few hours. He needed time to get back still. 

“I gather you didn’t call me here to inquire about my vessel.” 

“No, you’re right. Been trying to get you since Monday, Dude. Where have you been?” 

“I apologise. I must attune myself to you more before your prayers are able to reach me on other days of the week. Even if you invoke my name, until we are bound, I can only be truly summoned by an incantation. Today is Thursday and I am that day’s patron angel which is why your prayers reached me now.” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on. I’m thirteen, Dude, I ain’t getting _bound_ to anyone,” that was unfortunately the only thing that Dean had taken away from Castiel’s entire explanation. At the term, his mind had slammed on the brakes and stopped listening. 

“Oh, perhaps the term has different connotations than which I intended. I have not been on Earth for several centuries and perhaps my dialogue is now a bit underdeveloped. I only meant until we know one another better. I have yet to properly familiarise myself with your soul.” 

“Still sounding way more pervy than I’m comfy with, Man,” Dean grimaced. 

“What did you need, Dean?” Castiel sounded just the slightest bit exasperated at where their conversation had been going so far and Dean sucked it up. 

“Really, Man, I just wanna know why,” Dean said sadly. 

“Why?” 

“Yeah, I mean why me? Why save me? Also, _how_? How did you know that whatever that blazing light ball thing was would wanna kill me?” 

“The simplest answer is because God has plans for you.” 

That probably sounded way more ominous than Castiel had intended, but then again, Dean didn’t know for sure. 

He swallowed nervously and squeaked, “Wh… what kind of plans?” 

Castiel shook his head and seemed hesitant to answer at first but eventually he seemed to come to his decision and replied, “Big plans. Plans that as far as my understanding goes, were not supposed to occur until you were much, much older. The archangel Michael, however, is not known for his patience. He seemed concerned and wanted to… Get things in motion now and he needs you to do that. I was to be responsible for ensuring your compliance.” 

Dean backed off suddenly, his eyes going wide, but his position had him relatively trapped. Sure he could get out, but he wouldn’t be faster than Castiel. 

Castiel picked up on Dean’s sudden apprehension and instantly turned reassuring. “I have decided to go against these orders. I promise, Dean. That is why I saved you, to protect you from Michael.” 

“Why?” Dean asked, still suspicious. 

“I tend to be against the kidnapping of children on principle,” Castiel answered with a hint of wryness in his tone that Dean had not heard until now. 

Dean smiled a little and nodded. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” Castiel seemed disbelieving at Dean’s quick compliance. 

“Okay,” Dean repeated. “Just, something about you Cas, I trust you. So okay.” 

Castiel smiled suddenly and hid his face, looking all the younger in his teenage body. 

“What?” Dean asked puzzled, a slight smile of his own in play. 

“I just… No one has called me that before and meant it kindly.” 

“What?” Dean repeated, growing more confused. 

“Cas.” 

After a quiet moment, where both were admittedly feeling a little embarrassed but equal parts pleased, Castiel finally went on to explain what it was he understood of Michael’s plan. 

There was to be a large fight, the largest in fact – the Apocalypse - and Dean and Sam were apparently key players in it. They were to Michael and another brother who Castiel didn’t mention, what Jimmy was to Castiel - vessels, but not just any vessels – The perfect vessels. 

Castiel had only explicitly been told that Michael wanted him to capture both Winchester boys. He was one of the younger angels who had a younger vessel on Earth, which the angels assumed would have resulted in quicker trust. Castiel was hesitant to agree from the start but Zachariah (Michael’s mouthpiece) was his superior and it was instinctive for Castiel to follow orders. He hadn’t given an affirmative answer one way or the other, but Zachariah took the lack of response for assent. It wasn’t until Castiel had eavesdropped (it was entirely accidental) and heard the words, “Once he’s here, kill the boy, put the other somewhere safe until he’s eighteen. We’ll have our victory sooner, far quicker than we were to wait originally,” that he made his decision. 

Castiel then explained that under normal circumstances, humans were not allowed to be permanent vessels until they reached the age of majority in most countries. It was a caveat God placed on angels in order to protect the young. Jimmy was a few months shy of eighteen and Castiel was only taking control of him when it was required. Otherwise, he remained dormant and allowed Jimmy to function like a normal teenager, or as normal as he could under the circumstances. 

Castiel then went on to explain that he wasn’t sure which boy was to be spared and which was to be murdered so he vowed to protect both regardless. 

“So Michael and another dick brother of yours want to wear either Sam or me to the prom? Am I understanding that?” 

“I am afraid I do not understand you, Dean,” Castiel replied. 

“We act as ‘vessels’ for the big show-down,” Dean clarified. 

“Yes, that is correct.” 

“That ain’t happening.” 

“I whole-heartedly agree.” 

Dean turned fierce suddenly. “We keep this between you and me, all right? Sammy and my Dad don’t need to know. Sam would only be afraid and Dad would only worry. We’ll figure it out ourselves.” 

“Dean, you are only a child,” Castiel attempted to persuade. “Besides, they will have to know at least _some_ details so I can protect you. There are some things I have to do.” 

Dean was quiet for a minute, then, “Give me some time to think it over and come up with a way to tell ‘em, all right?” 

“You do not have mu—” 

“I _need_ some time,” Dean interrupted firmly. 

Castiel nodded, his mouth pressed in a thin line. 

Dean took a glance at his watch and cursed. “I needed to be back ten minutes ago!” 

Castiel nodded again and placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean screamed when he touched ground in front of their motel, looking around wild eyed. 

“What the fuck?” Dean snarled. 

“I took you back. Goodbye, Dean. Call again when you’ve made your decision.” 

Dean cursed again and called out for Castiel to wait. The angel looked hopeful. 

“Relax,” Dean shook his head. “I haven’t decided yet, just gimme a sec.” 

Castiel nodded uncertainly, but waited. 

Dean came out a minute later with a coat, bigger, thicker and warmer than the one Castiel was wearing and handed it over, blushing faintly. 

“What is this?” Castiel asked, taking the tan material carefully. 

Dean shrugged. “Dad was gonna give it away. It’s a bit small for him through the shoulders. For Jimmy. Kid must get cold. It might be big, but if he wears it over that lame excuse for a jacket he has, then he should be warm. Dude’s scrawny, probably needs all the heat he can get.” 

“That’s very kind of you, Dean,” Castiel’s voice softened and dropped some of the weird formality he had been using most of the visit. The angel pulled the tan overcoat on. As expected, it almost hung off Jimmy’s slight frame but it _would_ be warmer and at least it wasn’t too small. 

Castiel turned slightly and watched it swish around his calves; he smiled wider, his entire face softening, eyes brightening and even his voice changed, “Thanks, Dean.” 

Dean smiled. “No problem. Jim, right?” 

The teen nodded gave a little wave and his features shifted back to Castiel’s placidity. 

“Very, very kind,” Castiel repeated, almost in awe. 

Without warning or word, Castiel disappeared. Dean was left staring at empty air. 

“Geeze, it was just a friggin’ coat,” Dean muttered with a little smile playing on his lips. 

 _November 2 nd, 2005_ 

The rumbling Impala pulled up in Sam’s student housing lot. There were a few lights on and the bright blue light of a yellow emergency call box a few yards away, but there were no people and no other running vehicles. It was late and dark but the warmth of the day had lingered on slightly. The near perpetual warmth was one thing Dean had to give the state credit for. He watched silently and refused to move as Sam got out of the car. Castiel just glared at Dean then shut off the vehicle and went around the back to get Sam’s bag from the trunk. 

Dean glanced in the rear view mirror and saw them lean close as they murmured together, too far away and too quiet for Dean to hear. Dean huffed and refused to look any longer but not before he caught Castiel’s faint gesture and helpless headshake in Dean’s direction. Sam must have made a decision at that because he came around to Dean’s side of the car and leaned in the window. 

“Cas is pissed at you, Dude,” Sam remarked idly. “You’re acting like a little bitch, you know that right? Which one of us is supposed to be older again?” 

“Just go, Sam. If you wanna get away from me so bad, just go,” Dean refused to look at his brother’s face. 

Sam sighed, long-suffering. “Dean, I don’t want to go like this. I never like it when we’re fighting. We just had a pretty awesome hunt, don’t you think? Shouldn’t we be _happy_ about it? I get that you don’t like that I’m so far away, but it’s not like you’re alone. Besides, there’s no rule - written or unwritten - that you can’t visit me. You blow through here often enough I’m sure, what with hunts and everything.” 

Dean felt an angry coil in his gut and burst forth with it. “What about, Dad? Huh, Sam? He’s still missing. You just gonna walk away from that? I mean, I get that you guys didn’t part on the greatest of terms, but he’s _missing_. Do you not even care?” 

“Dammit, Dean!” Sam slapped a hand on the Impala’s roof and glared down at his brother. “Don’t say shit like that when you know it’s not true! Of course I care, but you guys don’t _need_ my help. I’m out of the game. I’d just slow you down.  Besides, I’ve built a life here, I can’t just abandon that. What about Jess, huh? You just want me to drop her and ride off in the sunset with you and Cas? I love her, Dean. Out of everyone, you should understand that.” 

“We’re your family, Sam,” Dean said, voice gruff, eyes narrowed. 

“Yeah, well I want to make Jess my family too. Do you get it now, Dean?” 

Dean blinked, taken-aback by that information, he gaped softly. The knowledge drove Dean out of the car and onto his feet. “You talking the ‘m-word,’ Sammy?” 

“Yes, Dean. I got a ring and everything. I was going to propose when we celebrate my getting into law school.” 

“You’re too young.” 

“That’s the biggest load of fucking bull I’ve ever heard!” Sam roared suddenly. “How old were you, huh? Eighteen?” 

“Fuck you, Sam, I was twenty-two,” Dean grimaced after he said it and looked away, he slammed the car door closed. 

“Ah ha!” Sam crowed triumphantly. “Gee, who do we know right now who is twenty-two, huh?” 

“That’s different!” 

“How? How exactly is it different? Please enlighten me. Because that’s the only thing that’s been coming out of your mouth lately and I’m no closer to understanding.” 

“Because, Sam, Cas knows exactly what I am! Can you say the same?” Dean was right in Sam’s face and jabbed at his brother’s chest with a hard finger. 

This time, Sam flinched and turned away from Dean’s stern gaze. 

Moments passed, the only sound their joint angry breathing. Castiel remained at the Impala’s tail, trying to remain as unobtrusive and invisible as possible but unwilling to venture too far in case this little battle of wills came to blows. 

Eventually though, Sam seemed to deflate and just looked incredibly sad. “It doesn’t matter, because that’s not who I am anymore. This time I’m done and I mean it. I’m out. Don’t come knocking again,” Sam muttered bitterly. He went around the back of the car and squeezed Castiel’s shoulder. “ _Bon courage et bonsoir_ , Aramis.” 

“ _Que Dieu soit avec vous,_ d’Artagnan,” Castiel replied, squeezing Sam’s shoulder in return. Sam nodded once, smiled sadly and walked away. 

Castiel watched him go until he couldn’t see him any longer, then raised himself up to sit on the Impala’s trunk. 

“All for one, one for all, my ass,” Dean muttered from where he was now leaning on the passenger side. 

Castiel didn’t reply. 

Neither man moved. 

xx 

To say that Sam was feeling like shit was an understatement but he did have seeing Jess to look forward to and that put a much-needed spring in his step. Imaging her smile and her soft coconut scent was already putting Sam at ease. Dean’s heated parting words still lingered in the back of Sam’s mind and the equally heated words Sam returned joined them, but the prospect of holding Jess in his arms tonight was enough to ease the sting slightly. Dean would come around or Sam would cave, either way, he knew they wouldn’t fight forever but while they were it still hurt. 

As he approached his apartment he felt a chill creep down his spine and he slowed his steps. There was something off in the air and long-ingrained hunter’s instincts were flaring white hot in his mind. Already he felt the adrenaline begin its quick glide through his veins as he peered around in the dimly lit courtyard. A shadow caught his eye at the foot of the stairs leading to his second floor home and he cautiously approached, hand groping around in his pocket for the Taurus that Dean had bought him when he turned sixteen. He hadn’t the heart to tuck it back in the Impala’s trunk, even if Jess hated guns. 

“You’re out late.” 

Sam relaxed and felt a smile slide across his lips. He moved his hand away from his inner pocket and then approached the shadow. “Brady, hey, you scared me, Man. You okay?” 

Brady had been Sam’s best friend almost since he started at Stanford. Brady was a good guy, but he had been having problems recently – drugs, drinking and sleeping around. It wasn’t terribly unusual for Brady to show up at odd hours when he needed help but he hadn’t come around seeking it for a little while now. Sam thought maybe he was finally doing better, but everyone was entitled to their backsliding, as long as they knew when to get help. 

“No, Sam, I’m really not,” Brady said airily. 

“Shit, Dude. Sucks. Well, come inside, I’ll make you some coffee and we’ll talk. Sound good?” Sam offered jovially. He was tired and not exactly in the most sociable of moods but Brady needed him and Sam refused to turn his back on his friend, especially not after the fight with Dean that Sam was already regretting. Besides he owed Brady. He had introduced Sam to Jess. 

“Well you see, _Sam_ …” Brady’s tone was off. It had an extra edge to it, a hint of danger that made the hair on Sam’s arms stand on end. 

Brady continued, “…that’s kinda the problem. I was great, managed to wrangle a favour or two, got a promotion at work and this really sweet assignment – big fun. But then, _then_ I come over here to ah… share and you know what I find? I can’t fucking get in!” Brady’s carefully modulated voice had turned to a roar at the end. 

To say Sam was confused was an understatement. “Brady, wha—” 

“Some fucking genius decided to ward the whole fucking building against fucking demons and whatever the hell those fucked-up scratchings all along the walls are supposed to block! So, Sam, you can imagine my distress!” 

“Brady, I don’t…” Sam felt his stomach sink and his heart start to race. 

Brady relaxed, suddenly at ease again and he grinned. “Wow, you’re slow. I don’t know if it’s sad or if it’s crossed the line into pathetic. Here I figured you were the brains of your little merry band of misfits but I guess that’s the little whore your brother fucks. Still haven’t figured him out, by the way. But, Sam, have you got me figured?” Brady’s smile was wicked as he stepped into the soft halo of light cast by the street-lamp. Sam looked up to see his eyes two deep shadows of black and he knew it wasn’t a trick of the light. 

“What are you?” Sam whispered. “What have you done?” 

“Two great questions, Sam. The first I’m surprised you don’t already know the answer to, but big bro always did like to coddle you, huh _Widdle Sammy_? I’ll give you a hint: starts with a ‘de’ and ends with a ‘mon.’ Awesome, isn’t it?” 

Sam eyes widened and he backed away. If what Brady was saying was true - and Sam now had no reason to believe it wasn’t - he had nothing on him that would protect him against a demon. He found it a little hard to recall what even worked on them. Dad had always told Dean and him that demons were rare and they had a hard time crawling out of the pit. Though Dad did have one trick with rock-salt and shotgun shells that Sam seemed to remember – he had neither. Nor did he have any way to trick Brady into a devils trap even if he could, through some miracle, find a way and a moment to draw one. 

“I see them cogs a-whirling, Sammy-boy. Good on you. In fact, I’m going to reward you with telling you what the answer is to your second question. It is a little trickier though. You see, like I said, there’s some real interesting fingerpaint up around your home sweet home and fucking salt lines. 

“Now, at first I thought I got lucky because the bathroom window had nothing on it and I could squeak my way though. But – and this really, _really_ pissed me off, Sam –  as soon as I touched the walls I got burned. Like holy water to the face but with more bite, know what I mean? No? Whatever. Then, you see, I got creative,” Brady grinned. “Jess really is a good girl, Sam. A real… ah… keeper. She’s so, so willing to help. All I had to do was call her up and let her know I was outside and,” Brady adopted a pathetic tone, “ _all messed up_.” His voice returned to normal, “Worked like a charm. I thought, hey, awesome, here’s my chance to gut the little slut, burn her up all nice and crispy just like Sammy’s mommy, but you know what? And this did _not_ help my mood at all, Sam, let me tell you. She really threw a spoke in my wheel what with that god-awful little bobble she had on around her neck – couldn’t touch her. That another one of your brother’s butt-buddy’s little trinkets?” 

“What did you do?” Sam whispered, his entire body rigid. 

“Well if you’d stop interrupting…” Brady rolled his eyes. “So here was another problem, I made up some bullshit story why I wouldn’t go in, had a good little sob on her shoulder and then bid her adieu. But, I still had my dilemma, didn’t I? The big boss man would be pissed as Hell (and that’s literal) if I screwed this up. Big promotion, big job, big payoff if it succeeded. So I needed it to succeed. 

“Now what is it all good businessmen do when they don’t have necessary resources at their disposal or if they meet too many firewalls? Easy-peasy: outsourcing! Hired a few good men and got little Miss Sunshine all snug and secure far underground. Can’t hurt her and won’t lose the satisfaction of killing her myself until I’ve explored all options, so I got her on ice, Sammy. 

“So here’s the deal, Sam: you want her back safe and sound, you do what I say. If you don’t do what I say then I’ll just get those same good men to go ahead and kill her. Bargaining chip is probably better use than a dead body anyway. You ever want to see Jess again, Sam?” 

“What do you want me to do?” Sam asked through gritted teeth. 

“That’s my boy. It’s simple really, all you ha—” suddenly Brady stopped midstream. 

Sam stared through the darkness, panic setting in as he heard a faint choking sound come from Brady’s direction. He moved forward to see the tip of a silver blade protruding from the Judas’s chest. Blood trickled out of his mouth as his body convulsed around the light-coloured metal. Sam looked over Brady’s shoulder just as a lightning burst flared underneath Brady’s skin only to meet Castiel’s grim face. 

“Are you all right, Sam?” Castiel asked once he let the body drop and returned the angel blade to wherever he pulled it from. 

Sam fell to his knees, tears burning sudden and hot, rimming his eyes before trickling down his cheeks. 

“No,” the young man whispered. 

In that second, Dean knew something was very, very wrong but they couldn’t stay here to figure it out. He ran to his brother and tried to lift him to his feet, but the younger man had fifteen pounds and three inches on him and he wasn’t budging. 

“Sammy, we gotta get out of here,” Dean gritted. He tugged at Sam again but it felt as if he were leaded. Before Dean could snap the request at Castiel, the angel was there and helping Dean with Sam as if he weighed nothing. Though the ease in the shift didn’t make it any smoother because the minute Sam was being dragged away he began fighting and thrashing against the grip. 

“Dammit, Sam, calm down!” Dean shouted. 

“Jess!” Sam cried out. 

Dean wanted to bash his head against the wall. How could he have been so stupid? His gaze met Castiel’s in the semi-darkness. Castiel nodded, understanding immediately, and disappeared. He reappeared mere seconds later and shook his head sadly. 

“Fuck,” Dean muttered. Then his heart skipped a beat in his chest when a very familiar sound crept towards them on the wind – police sirens. A neighbour must have heard the shouting or a scuffle or _something_ and called the police. It probably didn’t take much in this town to drop a bead. 

“Get us outta here, Cas.” 

They were in the Impala, with Dean behind the wheel in less than a second. Dean was starting her up a few seconds later and he peeled out of the dead-quiet parking lot as if the hounds of Hell were on their heels. He pleaded silently that Sam would snap out of it soon enough to tell them what the fuck happened. 

Castiel reached out across the seat, gripped one of Dean’s hands and held it tightly, resting on Dean’s knee. Dean squeezed back and drove on. 

xx 

Dean wouldn’t sit down and Castiel spent the last two hours staring at him while he paced their motel room. Sam still hadn’t said a word, just stared mutely at the wall from where he lay on his side on one of the beds. Usually Dean would book them separate rooms but he wasn’t about the leave his brother on his own this time around. 

“What the fuck did that sulphuric bastard do to my little brother?” Dean snarled. 

“I imagine it’s more what he told Sam, Dean,” Castiel said sadly. 

“Why can’t you fix it?!” 

Castiel glared. “Oh I’m sorry, Dean, there’s no cure for fucking sad!” 

The cursing stopped Dean dead in his tracks and it looked for a moment like they were about to argue before Dean deflated and turned away. He didn’t sit down though, he just went to their duffle and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. 

Castiel sighed. “I’m sorry, Dean. Just give it time.” 

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” 

“Dean—” 

“I said _okay,_ Castiel!” 

Castiel flinched and looked down at the carpet before he got up without a word and left the motel room. 

Since Dean had laid claim to the whiskey bottle in their room, Castiel crossed the parking lot to the on-site bar. It looked run-down and little more than a watering hole but even cheap booze would suffice. It wasn’t as if he could ever drink enough for it to help, but the act itself and being surrounded by people occasionally seemed to. 

When he entered the single room, low country music was playing from an ancient jukebox in the corner. Men in caps with grizzled beards were playing pool or sitting sullenly at tables. Castiel walked up to the bar and sat down. He ordered a few fingers of scotch and sipped it slowly. 

“Work or love-life?” a petite woman with long brunette hair was on the stool next to him. He felt the hair shoot up on his arms and the back of his neck and twisted his head around quickly to see her face; nothing supernatural, just pretty in a slightly exotic way with large brown eyes and red-painted, full lips. A large part of him wondered what was causing the thudding through his veins but if she were a monster, demon or angel Castiel would be able to tell. The only thing really that caught his attention was an odd necklace that she wore. It almost looked like a symbol or sigil but he couldn’t place where it was possibly from and as such had no way of reading it. Which meant it couldn’t be something from this world. 

“Both,” Castiel replied eventually. “One is conflicting with the other at the moment.” 

“Oh, I totally get that,” she replied. “My work doesn’t leave me much time for long-lasting relationships. Meg, by the way.” 

Castiel nodded. “Cas Winchester.” 

Her eyes seemed to widen slightly but Castiel wasn’t aware of why. 

She smiled and said, “Cas, huh? Funny name. That short for Casper or something?” 

“Or something,” Castiel didn’t offer anymore. “That’s an interesting necklace, Miss.” 

“Ooo, look at you all formal. Meg, please, just Meg. You like it? I found it at one of those lame craft sales one of my friends dragged me to. Total bore, this chick was selling kitschy jewellery and my friend wouldn’t let me leave the damn fair without buying something. So I just chose this at random. Kinda grown fond of it now.” 

“It suits you,” Castiel replied. 

The girl smiled mysteriously at him then said, “So, I’m not really a girl for taking it slow. Save the poetry right? Put up or shut up,” she winked. “So I’m gonna throw this out there. That love-life you mentioned, is it in an off-again phase? Because I tell ya, Cas, you’re not exactly hard to look at and I’ve been looking for a little ah… recreation if you get my meaning.” 

“I um…” Castiel stuttered. It wasn’t the first woman, or man who had ever flirted with him in a bar but she certainly was the most candid about it. 

“Shy?” her lips curled in a slow, cat-like smile, her hand rested high on his thigh without invitation. Castiel felt his vessel’s heart-rate increase as she leaned into his personal space, her smoke and whiskey scent underneath something more flowery and feminine tickled his nose. 

“Married,” Castiel put up his hand quickly, licking his lips. 

That didn’t seem to deter her. “Well that doesn’t matter if we shut-up about it. Could probably take your mind off of those problems you’re having.” 

Castiel downed his drink and shook his head, standing quickly and stepping away from her. “No. Please stop. I’m terribly flattered, truly, you’re a lovely woman but I could never betray him like that. Nor would I want to.” 

“Your loss,” she said airily with a shrug. 

Castiel raced from the bar and back across the parking lot. He slammed the door to their motel room behind him and leaned back against it. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Dean demanded. 

“A woman just attempted to seduce me at the bar. It was very unsettling. She was very persistent. Even after I told her I was married. That was a new experience,” Castiel answered. “One I have no desire to repeat.” 

Dean snorted and looked away. 

Castiel set his jaw and slumped on their bed. 

 

 **Interlude: Heaven and Hell**  

With a sigh Meg slid off of the barstool and sauntered to the washrooms at the back. She pushed open the Ladies’ and went to the last stall on the far end, opening the door to reveal a petite blonde woman, legs and hands bound, a gag over her mouth. Her heavily mascaraed blue eyes were wet with tears, little streaks sketched out in black along her cheeks. Meg cocked her head at the woman and smiled slowly; she leaned forward and removed the gag and before the blonde could scream Meg pressed their lips together, expelling her essence from the brunette’s body. 

Once she had settled in the blonde, Meg stood and rotated her neck, snapping the bonds easily and dumping the gag to the ground. The brunette was stirring, eyes wide and terrified, she seemed as if she were about to scream now but Meg backhanded her across the face and leaned down to rip the necklace off of her. She tucked it away in her new host’s pocket. 

Meg quickly contemplated killing the girl who was now unconscious on the bathroom floor, but her body had been fun and she might want to take it for a spin again. She left the brunette there and figured the girl would eventually find her way back to Cheboygan. Meg would just find someone else for the blood, it shouldn’t be hard. She was sure Lilith would appreciate finding out the creature that killed Azazel was now calling himself a Winchester and happened to be an angel. Meg could hardly believe her luck. She would also finally have her revenge on her father’s murderers. 

Meg dragged some poor sap out behind the bar and smiled sweetly at him before slitting his throat. She caught the blood in an ancient bowl, murmured the incantation and waited for the surface to bubble up. 

“Hello, Mother,” she muttered into the bowl. “I have some information… About Father… We were wondering how his death was caused so swiftly… It was an angel. The Winchesters have an angel and one of them has made him his little whore… He lives as human now on Earth, but his powers remain intact… Yes, Mother. I’ve switched bodies. I will try the younger boy, as we originally planned. As Father wished… Thank you, Mother.” 

Meg dumped the blood from her bowl, tucked it back in her bag and strolled away with a smile on her face, heading for the highway. 

xx 

Michael was growing impatient and Zachariah was getting nervous. Michael wasn’t particularly known for restraint and given the fact that he had manipulated time to get to this point in their story, Zachariah needed results and fast. He briefly contemplated seeking Raphael’s assistance but Raphael had his own agenda. More loyalist were Hester and Naomi but the latter was a scary bitch and the former was a cold-hearted one. They were unlikely to fall in line behind Zachariah no matter how much he asked. Now Zachariah was due for a briefing and he had absolutely nothing to report. 

He straightened his tie, took a breath and pushed the heavy slab of marble inward, squaring his shoulders for the upcoming confrontation. 

“Tell me some _good_ news, Zachariah, I’m growing weary of this entire affair,” Michael said, a resigned tone in his voice. Zachariah stared at the denim-clad back of the dark-haired figure in front of him. They were technically little more than wavelengths of celestial intent but often they would resort to their favourite vessels when speaking to one another in Heaven. It made things easier if they had to pass through the collection of Human Heavens. After all, not many got into the inner sanctum where their true forms were proudly displayed. At least not on a regular basis. 

“You see, Sir—” 

Michael spun suddenly, his broad, firm frame intimidating, green eyes flashing in anger. “Try again.” 

Zachariah couldn’t. That little toad Castiel had completely disappeared off the grid. Not only had he hidden the humans with some underhanded trickery, but he also somehow managed to leave himself relatively concealed. They couldn’t even latch on to his location long enough to begin stripping his powers. He had disappeared as effectively as Gabriel and Balthazar had, who were now presumed dead. Castiel would be the same if the Winchesters didn’t continue to be so damn hard to find. 

“Are we closer to locating John?” Michael asked, eyes narrowed and conniving as a plan began to form. 

Zachariah swallowed and shook his head. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Michael began snidely, “I didn’t quite catch that.” 

“No, Sir.” 

“You know, Zach, there’s one word that I really, _really_ don’t like hearing. Hazard a guess as to what that might be?” 

“‘No,’ Sir?” 

“That better be your answer.” 

“Yes, Sir!” 

“Well give the mook a cookie. I’m shocked, Zachariah, just shocked. Now listen here you spineless dick. I don’t like you, I never pretended to like you but you have your uses. Now get me some results before I go back in time, ride John Winchester’s sorry ass forward and go look for them myself! And one of those results better fucking well be Castiel’s head on a pike. Do you UNDERSTAND ME?!” 

Zachariah nodded quickly then stuttered, “Yes, Sir.” 

“Good, thank the Father, now get out of my sight before I use you for target practice,” Michael dismissed him with a casual wave of a hand. 

Zachariah scuttled from the room and down the hall quickly, jumping without pause into the corner-office Heaven of a miserly CEO who’d just managed to squeak by St. Peter. Zachariah slumped in the leather executive chair and pulled out a map from the top drawer of the desk as well as a roughly sketched timeline. They were eight years behind schedule and Zachariah was about to have his ass handed to him. Now where on God’s mired and trodden Earth were those stupid apes?


	6. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

_October 31 st, 2005_

Sam finally spoke to them the following morning. He looked as if he’d hardly gotten any sleep, but he kept on babbling about seeing a ‘Bones’ so Dean figured his little brother at least managed to snag an hour or two. Now, once Dean heard what had transpired, he didn’t blame Sam at all for how he acted. As Sam explained Dean couldn’t help but edge further along his bed and curl his fingers in the hem of Castiel’s sweater. Sam didn’t seem to notice his brother’s clinging but Castiel flashed Dean gentle, empathetic eyes and pressed their knees together. 

After Sam finished his recount and disappeared into a shower that promised to be very long and very hot, Dean turned to Castiel and snagged his lips in a breathless kiss before pulling back so their foreheads rested together. 

“I’m sorry about how I’ve been acting the last couple days,” Dean murmured. 

“It’s all right, Dean. I understand. You’re worried about your family.” 

“Our family.” 

“Our family,” Castiel amended. 

“Sorry about that chick at the bar too, did she try anything?” Dean asked. 

Castiel shook his head. “She just touched me. Something about her made my skin crawl.” Though now far more familiar with modern human speech and colloquialism, even the most common of clichés still sounded a little stiff coming from the angel. Dean had to smile every time. He kissed Castiel’s frown away. 

“Well, she was safe right?” Dean asked. 

“Yes, I believe so. The only odd thing about her was a charm she had on a necklace. Though she explained she bought it at a craft fair. The charm did have a certain quality to it, but it was nothing I recognized. I’m sure it’s just coincidence.” 

Dean nodded and thought about that for a moment. “Well, sketch it in the journal just in case. And! Before you say anything, I know you’ll remember but do it for my benefit.” 

“I will. Now though, are we going to discuss what Sam just informed us of?” Castiel asked sternly. 

Dean sighed and turned away from Castiel, dropping his forehead in his palms as he hunched over his knees. He sat like that for a moment before slowly dragging himself back up into a sitting position and offered up a bland smile that came across as more of a grimace. “Guess we have to. I can’t ignore Sam’s girlfriend being kidnapped on the word of demons and Dad clearly having to blow at least one angel back to the outfield. What are angels even doing here anyway? You said angels don’t make a habit of walking the Earth.” 

“Well, they haven’t in centuries,” Castiel dithered. “Prior to Christ, angels tended to visit humans more regularly. Regardless, I only imagine they are here for one thing.” 

Dean waited a beat, another, and a third then he rolled his eyes. “You gonna elaborate on that blindingly obscure statement, oh King Cryptic? I can totally dig the dramatic pauses, Dude, but you gotta give me something.” 

“Yes, right, I just… I rather not—” 

“Cas.” 

“Armageddon,” Castiel replied in a rush. “The End of Days.” 

“What?!” Dean shouted, only to turn after he heard a voice chime in with his own. Sam stood wide-eyed in a towel, hair still dripping. 

“Shit,” Dean muttered. 

Sam’s eye narrowed viciously. “What the hell do you mean Armageddon? Like the Apocalypse?” 

Dean flashed a disarming grin at his brother. “Nah, don’t be silly, Sammy. You know how Cas has a flair for the dramatic. He doesn’t mean _Armageddon_ , Armageddon, just you know… Armageddon-like circumstances. You really don’t have to worry. Cas and I can clean it up.” 

“Clean it up,” Castiel repeated flatly, eyes hard. 

“Oh come on Dean, don’t give me that crap. The only thing Castiel has a flair for is really bad fashion sense. So tell me what the hell is going on.” 

“Seriously, Sam, we can handle it. We’ll just focus on finding Jessica right now, all right? Isn’t that more important?” Dean offered. 

Sam twitched, his lips set in a thin line before he stormed over, grabbed his forgotten clothes and then headed back to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Dean winced. 

“ _Clean it up?_ ” Castiel spat out low and angry. “What exactly do you think this mess entails Dean? It’s not simply something we sweep under the rug, or ignore or forget about. You do realise that the end of days entails Lucifer’s rising, do you not? That means the _devil_ will walk the Earth, Dean.  The _devil_. You can’t simply cover Sam’s eyes from this and wish it away. It doesn’t work like that! You need to tell him. Now.” 

“Are you serious, Cas? He’s just a kid! How do you expect me to put that sort of weight on his shoulders when it’s my job to protect him. _My job_. I need to fix this and I need to save these people.” 

Castiel looked very sad and very old all of a sudden. He shook his head slowly and slumped his shoulders. “You can’t save everyone, my love, though you do try. This is not a weight you have to carry alone and Sam will _want_ to help. In fact, Sam _needs_ to help because the only way to prevent this is if you two are on the same team. Consider yourselves fire and oil – together you’ll combust and stop this.” 

“Yeah, well, when fire and oil get together they destroy themselves in the process. Is that what you’re asking of me?” Dean asked, his expression hurt. 

Castiel sighed and shook his head. “Dean, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” the angel said, voice a little strained. “Believe me when I say you’re stronger together.” 

“We’re also each other’s weak spots. Sammy’s my Achilles’ heel, Cas, you know that.” 

“Yes, but the two of you also have me. I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise. But I need you to trust your brother because the three of us _need_ to work together. Team Free Will. The Three Musketeers. You and I can’t do this on our own and you certainly can’t by yourself. So please, Dean.” 

Dean met Castiel’s gaze, blue soldered to green in an instant; Dean felt that little patter his heart always gave when they stared or when they were close. It made him feel warm and complete, especially with Sam nearby as well. The three of them were all twines of a rope – take one away and the rope would break down and fray. Somehow they were inexplicably linked, twisted together into one entity and if what Castiel was saying was true, if the endgame was really on the way, then Dean would be an idiot to break them apart and divide their strength. 

“Fine, but let’s get him to the house first, all right? It’ll be more comfortable there. Besides, we need to come up with a plan,” Dean eventually conceded. 

“Thank you, Dean.” 

 _April, 1992_  

Dean peered up at the sky, a hand across his brow to keep the sun from his eyes. They were staying with Uncle Bobby and he had taken them to a park. Right now Bobby was pushing Sam on the swing and Dean told him he’d be exploring. Bobby had looked at the boy critically for a moment before shrugging and nodding. Dean ran off. 

“You haven’t called me.” 

Dean spun around and saw the angel standing behind him. He looked a little different, almost as if he had bulked up some. Dean mentally shrugged and gave a little wave of greeting. 

“Still couldn’t figure out how to tell ‘em, is all,” Dean shrugged. 

“You aren’t going to tell them, are you?” Castiel observed. 

Dean shook his head. “Not everything. I’ll just let Dad know that we have to be on the lookout for angels. He probably won’t believe me though.” 

“I could vi—” 

“No!” Dean interrupted before Castiel could finish. “He’ll shoot you.” 

At Dean’s ferocity, Castiel couldn’t help but quirk a tiny smile. “I wouldn’t get hurt.” 

Dean looked away, the tips of his ears were slightly red and Castiel cocked his head, wondering if the boy was cold, he was about to ask but Dean spoke up again: 

“No, I’m not gonna let my dad shoot you. I’ll just have to make sure he believes me.” 

Castiel sighed and nodded. He seemed resigned to accepting Dean’s decision and Dean thought it strange that such a powerful creature would bow to the will of a little boy. Not that Dean thought he was _that_ little, but even he had to admit, he was still sort of just a kid. He couldn’t drive or anything. 

“What is this place?” Castiel asked, looking around. 

Dean gaped at Castiel. “Seriously? It’s a park, where families and kids come to enjoy outside. The last time we met we were at a park.” 

“It was different then. There is so much life here now.” 

Dean followed Castiel’s flitting gaze and had to agree. It was only natural though. Before was the middle of winter, now it was a bright warm spring day and the weekend at that. 

“Well, people don’t usually go to parks in winter or through the week. Just sometimes. It’s spring now, but I probably don’t have to tell you that.” 

“Yes, I’m aware of the season change. I’ve just never… This is my first time being in a place like this. It’s fascinating.” 

Dean rocked back on his heels and side-eyed Castiel. He was indecisive for a moment and gnawed his lip lightly before gearing up the courage. “So, you’re not flitting off anywhere?” 

“I have nowhere pressing to be at the moment.” 

Dean grinned. “Well! Let’s give you a proper experience! Come on, there’s a lake over the ridge!” Without thinking, Dean grabbed Castiel’s hand. 

So startled at the contact, Castiel allowed himself to be pulled across the well-trodden grass. 

 _November, 2005_  

Dean was more than relieved to be at their tiny little blue bungalow and the relief of it practically wafted off of him when he dropped his worn duffle in the small entranceway. He slid aside for Sam and Castiel to follow him through and Sam looked around with tired eyes. 

“It’s nice, Dean,” Sam managed to smile. 

Dean grinned. “Yeah, it’s not much but we like it. I still can’t really believe that I actually have a place of my own. Well, our own,” Dean amended including Castiel in his gaze. “Um, there’s a pull-out couch in the library.” Dean took Sam’s bag and led him through the small living room with a fireplace to a portion of the room that was cordoned off by wooden pocket doors. There was another door behind the couch, which led to the kitchen. The room was initially intended by the original builders to be a dining room but Castiel and Dean had converted it to a library-office combination which would now be used as a temporary bedroom for Sam. 

“Are you hungry, Sam?” Castiel asked. 

Sam shook his head in the negative. Dean and Castiel shared a look behind the younger man and Castiel nodded slightly. He’d make something anyway. Dean was a better cook but Castiel’s abilities were serviceable. Castiel squeezed in the space behind the couch and pushed the swinging kitchen door inward. There was just enough room to walk back there, considering the space they needed open to pull the folding bed out. 

“Coffee, Cas!” Dean called. Castiel didn’t reply but Dean knew he’d make it. 

Sam sat down, looking around. He seemed almost oversized in their small house but he fit there just the same. Dean really had missed his brother. He sat next to the taller young man and the two were quiet for a few minutes. 

“We’ll get her back, Sammy,” Dean promised. 

“But alive?” 

Dean’s stomach clenched. “Don’t think like that. We’ll get her and we’ll get Dad and then we’ll all be fine. You can head back to school, become a big-shot lawyer, have the house, the sedan, the dog, the 2.5 kids, the whole shebang. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure she’s still alive and pissed as hell. She doesn’t seem like the type of chick to take anything lying down.” 

Sam smiled fondly, even though there was an edge of pain in it. “No, she’s certainly not that.” 

“Though after this you’re certainly going have to give her the backstory,” Dean grimaced. 

“Yeah, guess so… Speaking of…” 

Dean mentally cursed himself. He was saved by Castiel coming into the room with two grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches on a tray along with three cups of coffee. He handed a plate to each Winchester, then set the coffees on the side table. He scooted back out of the kitchen to tuck the tray away then came back and rolled the office chair around to complete their little triangle. 

“Eat first,” Castiel said. “Then we’ll explain.” 

“I’m kinda boggling at this domestic alternate universe you two dragged me into,” Sam teased as he took a big bite of his sandwich. He smiled his thanks at Castiel. Castiel would make this for Sam when he was a teenager, and Dean knew it was one of the kid’s favourite meals. 

Dean elbowed Sam in the ribs before shoving his own massive bite of grilled-cheese in his mouth. 

“So why coffee but not food?” Sam asked, crunching on the chips that Castiel had served with the sandwiches. 

“Food is an inconvenience, coffee is an indulgence,” Castiel replied. “It might as well be decaffeinated considering my constitution but there’s also a social aspect in sharing coffee. Comfort at a certain level. Reminds me of when we were all together and John and I would stay up late after you and Dean were in bed and discuss lore, strategy.”

Sam snorted. “And here I thought Dad only ever drank hard liquor.” 

“Come on, Sam, you know that’s not true. Dad did the be—” 

“Best he could at the time,” Sam finished as if by wrote, his tone flat and unconvinced. The two humans were finished with their meal and Dean stacked the plates on the small table at his side. He passed Sam his coffee and the three drank companionably. Dean was waiting for Sam to broach the subject, and he knew Sam was probably waiting for either of them to begin. It was a silent battle of wills, but Dean was damn well _not_ going to get on the Share Train if Sam didn’t buy the ticket. If Dean still had full autonomy like he had before he had a husband then he wouldn’t be saying anything at all. 

That didn’t mean that Dean didn’t understand that Castiel posed a very valid point, it was merely that telling Sam all the gritty little details went against his fundamental conditioning: Protect Sammy. John had been drilling that in Dean’s head since he was four years old. Dean would freely admit that with the yellow-eyed demon dead and gone and Castiel on his side, the task of guarding his little brother became a lot easier over the years.  If Castiel hadn’t come along when he had and if his assistance with killing the yellow-eyed demon hadn’t been available and hadn’t won John over, Dean honestly had no idea where any of them would be right now. Maybe they’d still even be on the bastard’s tail. Dean was just damn glad he didn’t have to worry about that anymore. 

“Fine, I’ll be white, my pawn is out, now make your move, Dean,” Sam huffed. 

“Geek,” Dean snorted. 

“Nerd,” Sam shot back. 

“Look, I never really explained how I met Cas, did I?” Dean began. 

“Not really, he just seemed to kind of show up one day,” Sam replied. 

“I met him because he saved my life. I was attacked when I was thirteen, I couldn’t see what it was then, but now I know it was an angel without a vessel. First words he said to me: Dean Winchester, you are saved.” 

“Why are the angels even after you?” Sam asked. 

Dean looked away. “Us.” 

“Us?” 

“Sam,” Castiel took over, “you have to understand, Heaven has become rather corrupt. My Father along with one of the archangels have been missing for several years. Raphael and Michael are both, I suppose, fed-up with the status quo and they wanted things to… Start over?” 

“What the hell? Are you seriously telling me God and an archangel are missing and Michael and Raphael are sick of keeping house?” 

“Yes,” Castiel said seriously. 

“Then what have I been praying to all these years?” Sam demanded, face dark and angry. 

“You were born on a Monday in the West which means that Corabael would be receiving your prayers. Gabriel, also, if he still has a link to Heaven, if he’s even still alive.” 

“Dude,” Dean said somewhat offended, “why does he get an archangel?” 

“Everyone has both, Dean. The archangels are assigned to certain days along with many lesser angels.” 

“Who’re mine then?” Dean asked. 

“Me,” Castiel smiled. 

“I was born on a Thursday?” Dean lifted a brow. 

Castiel shook his head. “No, Wednesday, so technically Miel or Serada.” 

“And my archangel?” 

Here Castiel looked uncomfortable and turned away, he grimaced slightly. “Raphael.” 

“That dick?” Dean sneered. “I think I’d rather Michael over him.” 

“Okay, this all really fascinating, but weren’t you guys going to tell me about the freakin’ apocalypse?” Sam interrupted. 

“Right, we got off track,” Castiel said quickly, his voice evening out to the more clinical style he took on when he was explaining things. It reminded Dean of the first days he used to hang out with Cas and Jimmy as well, because Dean, since they met, could always tell the difference. 

 _April, 1992_  

Dean had dragged Castiel across the park and over to the small manmade lake. It was a warm and sunny day and the grassy shores were packed with people. Dean immediately led Castiel over to where a group of young men were racing remote-controlled boats. One guy lost control of his boat and it shot off course, right into a group of quietly swimming ducks. The ducks squawked indignantly and took to wing but they didn’t fly too far. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw that Castiel seemed rapt with the aquatic birds. 

“Of all my Father’s creatures, those he has bestowed upon the natural ability of flight are the most fascinating to me,” Castiel said. Dean watched as he crouched beside the small lake and held out a hand to the birds. Dean was about to warn him off and tell Castiel how nasty the things could be, but was surprised when one duck scooted forward, touching it’s orange beak to Castiel’s fingers before allowing Castiel to run a delicate finger along the green crown feathers of the creature. 

Dean crouched next to the angel but didn’t dare reach out himself. He had a feeling the duck wouldn’t take quite so kindly to him. 

“Can’t you fly?” Dean asked. “Actually, I _know_ you can fly.” 

“Yes, I can, but the way the birds and fowl on this planet travel is so much more… physical. They act against the force of the planet itself, are led by invisible signs and patterns that only they truly know and how strong they must be, how hard they must work to fight the only thing keeping them tethered here is fascinating.” 

“What do your wings look like, Cas?” 

“Shadow, light, space, mass, dust, stars, multi-hued aurora, an extension of my grace and how my Father designed them.” 

“Ah, I think that’s a little beyond my understanding.” 

“Raven wings,” Castiel amended. “If I were to show them to you, you would likely see massive raven wings.” 

Dean blinked. “They’re black?” 

“Yes, not many angels have white wings. Only… Well, only one brother who was lost to us a long, long time ago.” 

“What was his name?” 

Suddenly Castiel teetered beside him and fell back with a muffled: _oof_. Dean turn his head quickly to see the boy next to him sprawled ungainly on his rear-end. 

“Jimmy?” Dean asked. 

Jimmy pushed himself back into a crouch and grimaced slightly as he put a hand to his damp slacks. “You picked up on that, huh?” 

“Yeah, don’t think Cas has an ungraceful bone in his body… Er… your body. Whoa, weird,” Dean grinned. He stood and held out a hand, offering to heave Jimmy to his feet. Jimmy took the offer and Dean held onto his hand to give it a proper shake once they were both settled. 

“Well not exactly how I wanted our next meeting to go, but at least I didn’t throw up on your shoes,” Jimmy smiled brightly and so wide that he showed a bit of gum. Dean grinned back. 

“S’okay,” Dean shrugged. “Not that it isn’t nice to see you again, but why’d Cas tap out?” 

Jimmy frowned and seemed to think hard, his brow furrowing. “I don’t… It’s a little hard to pick up on his thoughts sometimes. But he seemed to… to panic, a little? Heck, maybe he just thought I could use some fun. I really don’t know.” 

Dean nodded, accepting that for now, then grinned again and shot out a hand, smacking Jimmy on the shoulder. “Tag! You’re it!” Then Dean ran.

It took Jimmy a few seconds to realise what had just happened, but when he did he tore after Dean with a smile on his face, chasing the younger and smaller boy along the shoreline. As they ran, they received a variety of looks, some critical to see two boys their ages acting like far younger children, but more fond and amused, perhaps at the fact that an older boy was so willing to play like a child for a younger when most wouldn’t give children the time of day. 

Dean was fast, but one of the few things Jimmy was allowed to do and enjoyed doing was running. For the most part it was free and no equipment required except a pair of half-decent shoes. His were old and second hand but they were still good and sturdy. Despite Dean’s years of training as a hunter and the fitness that came along with it, Jimmy caught up with Dean quickly enough and tagged the boy in return. 

Dean’s expression at the action was surprised and maybe just a tad bit indignant but he was a good sport about it and began chasing after Jimmy with a grin on his face. Jimmy led Dean away from the paved walkway and to the more difficult path along the backside of the grassy ridge that plateaued into an open, treeless area that was relatively unoccupied. Just about halfway along the crest of the hill, Jimmy’s foot caught on a hidden indentation and he stumbled forward. He managed to catch himself before falling but Dean was closer behind than Jimmy thought and the younger boy went crashing into him – what would have been a gentle open-palmed tag became a full-body tackle. Jimmy went to the ground laughing; he rolled onto his back once he landed, cushioning the fall slightly. Dean tumbled right along after him and landed on the older boy, pressing the air from Jimmy’s lungs. They stared in slight shock for a minute before Jimmy managed to get his wind back and laughed harder. Dean grinned down from where he was sprawled on Jimmy’s chest. 

“Usually my opponents don’t put up that much of a fight!” Dean crowed, clearly glad for the challenge Jimmy provided. 

“I like to run,” Jimmy replied with a shrug and a smile. Soon though he noticed their positions and gently pushed Dean off of him with a slightly uncomfortable cough. 

Dean’s eyes flashed with confusion mixed with a little bit of hurt. Jimmy reached up and ruffled Dean’s hair, trying to soften the action. 

“You’re heavier than you look!” Jimmy offered by-way of explanation. 

Dean seemed to accept that at face-value and rolled properly on his back, looking up at the blue sky and white fluffy clouds. It really was a nice day. 

“Hey Jimmy?” Dean asked nervously. 

“Yeah?” 

“I know we don’t really know each other, but ah… can I ask you some questions?” 

“Okay…” Jimmy replied a little hesitantly. 

“Um… what’s it like? You know, with the whole angel thing?” 

Jimmy was quiet for a moment. “I’m not… I don’t really… It’s just, having an angel inside of you, it’s kinda like being chained to a comet. Does that make sense?” 

Dean didn’t really know much about comets but he thought he understood. “Yeah.” 

“So it’s hard to tell sometimes, what’s going on. Castiel’s really nice and everything, don’t get me wrong, but he’s… Well the closest thing I can think to describe him as is pure energy – Warm, bright, blinding, all-consuming. Even when he’s sleeping, which he usually does when he’s not with you, I can still feel him there burning just below my skin. But it’s a nice burn, I guess.” 

“So he sticks around, then?” 

“Uh huh,” Jimmy nodded. “I think it’s safer that way. It lets him hide. I mean, angel-rules say that he can’t take me over full-time until I’m eighteen but every time he leaves, if he were to leave, I think he would have to work his way back in and I think the others would be able to find him.” 

“So he uses you as a bullet shield?!” Dean was suddenly indignant on Jimmy’s behalf. “That is not okay.” 

Jimmy shook his head quickly. “No, no, I’m safe. He’s always watching. If something ever tried to hurt me again he’d come out and protect me. I give him a place to hide and he gives me… ah, peace I guess? I actually feel better, knowing he’s there. I’m not so much a bullet shield as a fallout bunker. We keep each other safe.” 

That didn’t sit right with Dean, he furrowed his young brow and asked, “Hurt you again? What do you mean safe?” 

Jimmy was quiet for several moments and he had gone very still next to Dean. 

“Jim?” Dean prompted impatiently. After all, he may have been a very mature thirteen-year-old boy, but he was a still just a boy and sometimes the subtleties of human interaction and physical tells eluded him. 

“I…” Jimmy hesitated, but then he remembered Dean’s kindness and knew that he wouldn’t be critical. Jimmy continued carefully, “I live in a place that isn’t very nice.” 

“Your dad doesn’t hurt you does he?” Dean asked, aghast. 

“No, not my dad. I don’t have one. I don’t have a mom either. I live in a group home that’s run by a church. The priests have… old fashioned ideas and one gets a little carried away sometimes. I prayed for help every night and then Castiel came to me and told me he could help me if I helped him. I said yes and he’s been protecting me ever since. He’s helped me a lot.” 

“Oh,” Dean remarked. Then asked, “How long have you been there?” 

“A really long time,” Jimmy said sadly. “Since I was three or four. I don’t know for sure really. I just know I was young. I have a very vague memory of a woman who had dark hair and big blue eyes. She was also really young and maybe not entirely well. I think she was probably my mother. One of the last things I remember is her crying. An older man came and said some very cruel things to her and me too. I think the old man wanted me dead,” Jimmy frowned, searching for the fragments in his mind. 

“The woman, my mother, grabbed me very hard and left a bruise on my arm to stop the old man from dragging me away, then once she realised she hurt me she cried harder and let me go. I remember how blue her eyes looked with tears in them. The old man tossed me into a car and we drove for what had to be hours, but maybe it was only a few minutes. He then pulled me out of the car and dropped me at the end of a driveway before he climbed back in and drove away. It was late at night and I remember I was still in my pyjamas and how funny my slippers looked against the grass. 

“I don’t know how long I stayed there but I know by the time Father Novak came for me, I could barely move I was so cold. He asked me my name and that was it, at least I knew I was called Jimmy. He took me in and set me by the fire and had one of the sisters change me and bring me soup. I lived there ever since.” 

“Who was the old man?” Dean asked. 

“The woman kept called him ‘daddy,’” Jimmy replied. 

“Your grandpa,” Dean whispered, shocked. 

“I guess so.” 

“Is Father Novak nice?” 

“He was. Very nice,” Jimmy nodded. “He died when I was fourteen. After that the home wasn’t so nice anymore.” 

“I’m sorry, Jimmy.” 

“Me too,” Jimmy smiled sadly, then he reached up and ruffled Dean’s hair again, breaking the tension. 

Dean scowled and ducked the hand, swatting at it playfully. 

“I’ll see you around, Dean. I had fun.” 

“Wait! Ji—” 

“Jimmy was tired,” Castiel said. Suddenly Jimmy’s causal slouch was ramrod straight. His body was still on the ground but he no longer looked at ease in the position. 

“Hi, Cas,” Dean said. 

“Hello, Dean.” 

“You’ll keep looking out for him, right?” 

“Always.” 

 _November, 2005_  

“Wait, wait,” Sam held up a palm. “All this crap is happening because some angels want to wear us to the prom? You mentioned Michael, but who is the other one?” 

Castiel and Dean had given Sam the rundown of what had been their lives for the past thirteen years. Dean could see clearly that Sam was trying to wrap his head around all the new information but he also knew Sam needed all the facts before he could do so. Dean couldn’t help but agree with Sam, because even he didn’t know the name of the mysterious angel that wanted to take one of them on. For some reason Castiel had never shared that tidbit. 

“He doesn’t matter,” Castiel said quickly. “Michael’s goal is to prevent that from ever happening, that is why he wanted you two kidnapped as children. He could kill the vessel of the other angel and keep his under lock and key.” 

“Okay, but I still think it would help if we knew just who we were dealing with,” Sam said carefully. 

“Yeah, Cas, Sammy’s right. Why are you so dead-set against sharing the name with us?” 

Castiel sighed and looked at both brothers. This was not an easy topic to discuss. Castiel had no desire to share the name of his other brother because then his brother’s true identity would be revealed and neither Sam nor Dean would rest any easier with the knowledge. If anything, it would make it far, far worse. 

“Spit it out, Dude,” Dean prompted. “Need to play with a full deck here.” 

“Lucifer,” Castiel replied. “My other brother is Lucifer. Michael is to battle him in End Times to determine humanity’s fate.” 

“Lucifer,” Sam repeated, in a shocked whisper. “The Devil.” 

Dean stared anxiously at his brother, his gaze only flitting briefly to Castiel then back again. He thought he had heard wrong, but Sam heard it too. 

“So who’s who?” Dean asked after a few moments of tense silence. 

Castiel shook his head, his eyes sad as he looked between the brothers. “I’m not a hundred percent sure. It could be either of you or just one. Generally, when angels take a vessel there is only one vessel per family; a single child household or one child who is not devout enough to house an angel. In this case, I believe, there is one of you per one of my brothers. I don’t think they could share you as vessels. Zachariah, my superior, never actually shared with me who was going to die and who was to live.” 

Dean nodded and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Lucifer probably wants to jump me. It would make more sense. I never really believed in angels or God until one came along and saved my life,” Dean smiled at Cas here. “Not to mention the entire corruption of an angel thing I got going on. Isn’t that what Satan was all about? Corrupting the pure? And Sammy’s always been a better person than me so he’s probably for Michael.” 

Castiel didn’t agree or disagree and Sam too was very quiet. Both of them were inclined to disagree with Dean. Dean was thinking too broadly; angels were often far more literal than that. 

Dean may not always be ‘good’ but he was righteous, much like Michael, God’s greatest warrior. Michael also remained loyal, true and obedient to God, their Father, much like Dean. Whereas Sam had only ever remained loyal and true to Dean. 

One thing that Castiel had only ever contemplated with John on one or two drunken nights when the boys were still teenagers was that Sam had a taint. An edge of darkness throbbing under his skin and that darkness was growing ever since he turned twenty-two. 

If Castiel had been of higher rank in Heaven he might have known what had happened to Sam when Azazel attacked him that night, but as it was, Castiel had only ever been able to tell that it was a demon until John revealed that the demon had yellow eyes. Castiel only knew of one demon in existence with such a feature and to date he was the only demon this century to contact Lucifer directly, as far as the angel’s knowledge went. Which clearly meant that Sam was directly linked to Castiel’s fallen brother. Dean would refuse to believe it however. 

“Regardless,” Castiel said, “I must protect the both of you. I refuse to allow either of you to say ‘yes’ or to be killed.” 

“Say yes?” Sam wanted to know, brow furrowing. 

“An angel needs consent to enter a vessel,” Castiel explained. 

Sam gaped at the angel and his brother, reeling from the information. “So you’re riding around in some poor bastard?” 

“Jimmy’s cool with it, Sam,” Dean explained patiently. 

“What? Have you asked? I mean does he want…” Sam flapped his hand between Dean and Castiel and Dean flushed hotly. 

“He’s _cool_ with it, Sam,” Dean stressed. “He knows everything and he’s given his consent for _everything_. He’s a good guy, I’d even consider him a friend.” 

“Ah… isn’t that awkward though?” 

“Typically, I keep Jimmy’s soul in a static state; once he turned eighteen that is. An angel is not allowed to permanently control a vessel until that vessel has reached the age of majority, not that the complexities of our sex-life are really any of your business,” Castiel explained coolly. 

Sam flushed. “Just wanted to make sure that you weren’t… you know…” 

“Stop it right there, Sam, the fact that you’d even _wonder_ about something like that is actually really insulting,” Dean glowered. 

“Sorry, this is just all really new, all right? I really didn’t think that… Never mind. Like you said, not my business, but Dad is. So there’s more to that symbol I saw on his bathroom door than what you were saying, isn’t there,” it was a statement not a question. 

“Yeah, it means that for some reason, angels were after Dad. That’s a banishing sigil for angels. It sends them to God knows where. Takes at least three hours for them to find their way back once you use it,” Dean explained. 

Castiel got up and went over to the desk, sketching the sigil out quickly and handing it to Sam. “Memorize it, but remember: it has to be drawn in blood and be fairly large. You need to press your palm flat against the centre to activate the magic.” 

“Do you seriously think they’re going to come after us?” Sam asked, voice small. “I mean, we have demons on us and now angels? How is that fair? And what about Jess? Why would demons want to kidnap her or kill her? What would that accomplish?” 

“We don’t know, Sam,” Castiel said softly. “And that’s the problem. I wish I had the answers for you, but I don’t. Right now the only thing we can do is continue to look for your father and see if we can discover where the demons might have taken Jessica.” 

“Yeah, Sammy, we’re aren’t gonna stop until we find them both, all right?” Dean offered a small grin. “Now we just gotta figure out where those coordinates go, follow Dad’s trail, but I think we should all get some sleep.” 

“It’s already been a few days though, Dean, what if the trail gets colder?” Sam said. 

“A few extra hours won’t hurt, Sam, and neither you or me will be any use behind the wheel right now and it isn’t fair to make Cas do all the driving all the time. We’ll get up early and get right on it tomorrow.” Dean stood and clapped his brother on the shoulder. He returned a few seconds later with sheets, blankets and a few extra pillows. Dean nudged Sam until the younger man got off the couch and Castiel helped Dean clear away the cushions and pull out the bed hidden away. 

“I can do it my—” 

“Sam, just let me, all right?” Dean replied, exasperated. 

“Dean—” Sam tried again. 

Castiel came over to Sam and offered him a small smile. “Let Dean do this for you, it’s small and perhaps a little trivial but he enjoys taking care of you.” 

“He doesn’t have to anymore,” Sam huffed, but leaned back against the desk alongside Castiel. 

“We both know that, Sam, but it doesn’t change anything. One thing we will never break Dean out of is his tendency to take care of everyone.” 

“Yeah, well, sometimes I just wish he would do something for himself,” Sam huffed. 

Dean clapped his hands together. “All right, Sammy, all done. If you need anything in the night help yourself. Bathroom’s the first door on the right. I’ll let you get in there first. Night.” 

“Night, Dean, and thanks,” Sam smiled. 

Dean and Castiel left Sam to it then. The green-eyed man led the angel to their bedroom and began shucking out of his clothing. Castiel watched shamelessly as Dean undressed, gradually revealing tantalising strips of skin. Dean pulled on pyjama pants and a butter soft t-shirt before flopping on the bed and dragging Castiel down on top of him. 

“God, should I feel guilty that I’m glad Sam’s here, considering _why_ he’s here?” Dean asked. 

“You missed your brother, Dean, it’s understandable. Besides, we’ll get Jessica back, we can hold on to the fact that they didn’t kill her and be thankful.” 

Castiel watched Dean carefully as the man’s eyes slowly began to droop, even lying in what had to be an uncomfortable position with his legs hanging off the bed and Castiel half on top of him. Castiel moved to shift away, but Dean murmured sleepily and tightened his hold where his hands rested lightly on Castiel’s hips and bottom. 

Castiel kissed Dean’s neck softly, then he moved up the man’s jaw then pressed a chaste kiss to his pink lips. Dean blinked open blurry green eyes. 

“Hello there, was just waking to inquire whether you wanted to actually be _in_ bed to sleep,” Castiel teased gently. 

“Hmm?” 

Castiel chuckled and pushed up and off of Dean, smiling at Dean’s quiet sounds of protest at losing Castiel’s weight. The angel shifted the human so that he was lying on the bed properly and tucked him under the blankets. Dean reached out for Castiel as the blue-eyed man moved away. 

“I’ll be there in a second,” Castiel whispered. “Just thought we’d both be more comfortable if I changed.” 

Dean murmured his assent, nosed aggressively at his pillow and rolled slightly onto his side. Dean would be irritated in the morning that Castiel didn’t wake Dean enough to carry out his nightly routine of face-washing and teeth-brushing, but Castiel also knew that this was probably the most comfortable and content Dean had been in weeks and the hunter needed his sleep. 

Castiel turned off the dim bedside lamp, then curled up at Dean’s side. Dean immediately rolled onto his stomach into Castiel’s heat and rested his head close to his husband, already mostly asleep. 

xx 

“Blackwater Ridge,” Sam announced the next day, with a small furrow to his brow. Dean looked up after folding Sam’s omelette and waited for his brother to continue. Sam looked better today, like he’d actually got some sleep. Even though Castiel had reported that Sam had a few nightmares last night they hadn’t hindered his rest. Castiel possibly may have coaxed Sam’s unconscious mind into more peaceful directions but Dean and Castiel would neither confirm nor deny that. 

“What’s there?” Dean prompted when Sam chose to keep mum. 

“Ah, not much of anything. Forest, rocks, wilderness.” 

“My favourite,” Dean wrinkled up his nose. 

“Oh shut-up, you like camping,” Sam retorted. 

“Only whenI _have_ to,” Dean answered. “Hey, Cas?” 

Castiel poked his head through the swinging kitchen door, book tucked under his arm. He was doing some research into both the Apocalypse and demon signs while he waited for the boys to eat. 

“How’s angel radar?” Dean asked. 

“Quiet,” Castiel replied. 

“Think you could take a wing over to those coordinates Dad gave? Try and get a lay of the land see what the hell we’re up against. Not to mention if Dad’s there.” 

Castiel frowned slightly and cocked his head as if listening, then he nodded carefully. He was gone before their very eyes, the faint sound of wings following his departure. 

“Handy,” Sam remarked. 

“He’s been flying around a lot lately though, he’ll probably have to hold off for the next little while. We might already be drawing some unwanted attention. Cas tries to hide himself but we’re never quite sure how much the angels can actually detect.” 

“How does he hide?” 

Dean shrugged. “Beats me. He got a few tips from his brother… ah… he had weird name, not like that says much… Baltor? Balthane… Balthazar! The guy was conniving for an angel, annoying as hell too, but don’t mention him to Cas. It’s kind of a sore spot.” 

“Why?” 

“He died,” Dean replied quietly. “I think he was one of Castiel’s favourites too. Apparently was killed in some epic battle upstairs. Regardless, he managed to pass on some tricks to Cas. Don’t ask me where he picked up on them though. From what I understood, Balthazar was younger but perhaps he was more scholarly than Cas when they were running together in Heaven. Cas was an excellent strategist but I’m not sure if the book stuff was really his thing. Preferred making devil’s traps and plotting battles over reading up on all the secrets of the angels. Smart as fuck but more hands on.” 

Sam smiled faintly. “Like you.” 

Dean snorted. “No need to humour your idiot brother, Sammy.” 

“Dean, I’m serious.” If earnestness was a physical thing, Dean was pretty sure he’d be blanketed with it at that moment. 

“Here, food.” Dean put a large plate of food in front of Sam before turning back to the stove. 

“Dean I mean it. You’re a—” 

“Wendigo,” Castiel reappeared. “I managed to rescue the young man it had captured and dropped him at a ranger’s station but I’m afraid I would have drawn too much attention to myself had I smote it. We’ll have to go by more traditional means as soon as you two are ready. I think I’ll have to refrain from flying for a few weeks.” 

Dean turned concerned eyes on the angel. “Trouble?” 

“No; a message,” Castiel answered. 

“Bad?” 

“It was more a warning I suppose. My brother, Samandiriel, managed to locate me. We were fairly close when we were stationed on Earth. I trained him from a fledgling. Samandiriel sent me a message to be careful if I wanted to remain unencumbered on Earth. I trust he won’t give me up to Zachariah or Michael, but I feel guilty about putting the weight of withholding the truth on his shoulders. He’s young still,” Castiel sat down next to Sam and gratefully took the coffee Dean offered. 

“Why don’t you give Jimmy some face-time? You’ll be hidden then, right?” Dean suggested. 

Castiel grimaced. “Yes, though I hate hiding behind him. But you’re right. I’ll take control again once we’ve reached Blackwater Ridge. Be sure you pack your flamethrowers and flare guns. A wendigo can only be killed with fire.” 

“Yes, Dear,” Dean rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. He leaned down and gave Castiel a chaste kiss. “See you later.” Dean pulled back and turned to the stove again. He cracked some more eggs and whisked them vigorously, trying to ignore Sam’s soppy expression. 

“That for me?” 

Sam actually started at the voice and change in mannerism. What had once been Castiel clearly wasn’t anymore. The man sitting next to the younger Winchester spoke with a higher tone that wasn’t as stilted as Castiel’s speech sometimes continued to be. His rigorous military posture was all but forgotten and he sat in an easy slouch at the table. His face also seemed to hold more expression without even expressing much at all. 

“Yeah, I know Cas is bad at feeding you, thought you’d appreciate it,” Dean answered without turning. 

“I really do,” Jimmy said gratefully. “I’ve told the bastard to wing by a burger joint every now and then but he either forgets or ignores me,” Jimmy huffed. 

“Ah…” Sam gaped. 

“Oh gosh, hi! My name is Jimmy, Jimmy Novak, you must be Sam,” the older man had a slight flush of embarrassment on his cheeks as he held out a hand for Sam to shake. “Cas talks about you a lot and of course Dean when the veil is lifted. It’s really great to meet you, Sam.” 

“Ah…” Sam just repeated elegantly. 

“No mushrooms, right Jim?” Dean asked, unfazed. 

Jimmy scowled with his entire face, clear disgust on his features. 

Dean chuckled and tossed the man a wink before turning back to the stove. 

“I swear you ask just to get my reaction,” Jimmy groused. 

“Ah…” another eloquent comment from Sam. 

“Wow, I’m really sorry, this must be strange for you,” Jimmy turned back to Sam, his face apologetic. “It takes some getting used to.” 

“Understatement,” Sam managed to squeak out. 

“Here, Jim,” Dean finally settled at the table after setting two plates down. “Sammy, yours is probably cold, you can’t taste the awesomeness when it’s cold. I make a mean omelette.” Dean rolled his eyes and switched plates with his brother, whose breakfast had only been minimally touched. Dean dug into the cold egg concoction easily. When Sam still didn’t move, Dean kicked his brother under the table. 

“Eat. I wanna get on the road in an hour.” 

xx 

As they drove, Jimmy spoke to them amiably from the backseat. He, like Castiel, had a bad habit of not wearing his seatbelt. After the first few times that Dean demanded Jimmy put the restraining device on and Jimmy refused to comply, Dean finally gave up. Jimmy and Sam were talking now, with Jimmy leaning forward and telling Sam pretty incredible tales of some of the things he managed to witness as an angel’s vessel. Castiel, when he was away from Dean by necessity, at times got lonely and would bring Jimmy out of his sleeping state to talk. 

“God, the most incredible thing? The flying, Sam. You can’t even imagine,” Jimmy grin was wide, a hint of gum showing over his teeth, eyes sparkling as he talked. The change was unbelievable, but there was one thing Sam noticed that didn’t change and that was the softness that stole over Jimmy’s expression whenever he glanced at Dean and sent him a sweet, shy smile. Sam was surprised and wondered if Dean knew. 

xx 

Dirty, sweaty and exhausted, Dean collapsed back against a moss-covered tree trunk at the entrance of the mine. Wendigos were tough sons-of-bitches, but this one was taken care of in fairly short order with no local rangers or civilians to encumber them. Castiel’s rescue mission the previous day had really paid off in that department. The blue-eyed man (Castiel since they reached the ridge) came and sat down next to Dean, handing him a canteen that contained angelically-chilled water. Dean took a grateful swig and Castiel winked, settling back against the trunk as well. Sam came out a few moments later, coughing and panting; he wiped sweat, soot and dirt from his brow and snatched the water without even asking as he collapsed with the other two men.

“I think I managed to round up and torch all the remains. I brought out a few knapsacks I found too, left them by the entrance. The families may want their loved one’s possessions and it would be nice to give them back to them,” Sam said. 

“Sounds good,” Dean nodded. “We’ll go over to the ranger station as soon as I catch my breath. Remind me to never get abducted by a wendigo again.” 

“Never get abducted by a wendigo again,” Castiel said flatly. 

Dean rolled his eyes and playfully smacked Castiel’s arm. Jimmy was awesome to hang out with and everything, but Dean was still glad to have his partner back. He missed the nerdy little dude when he was gone and it had been more years than Dean cared to remember since he had been on his own. 

A part of him recognized he was too dependent on his family, but family was what was important and Dean couldn’t find it in him to care all that much about how dependent he was. They may be his vulnerability but they made him stronger too. 

Once they got Dad back then everything would be perfect again. Jess too. Jess was Sam’s family and Dean found he needed to accept that pretty fast. After all, Sam never faulted Dean for loving an angel and Dean couldn’t fault his brother for finding someone to love as well. Even if Dad was still in the wind and Jessica was in a horrible situation, Dean couldn’t help but be content in this moment with his angel and his brother at his side. 

Sam even seemed to be doing better. Dean was sure the younger man still missed and was afraid for his girlfriend, but she was alive and they all held on to that. None of them believed that the demons would kill Jessica, not yet anyway. They would only take her because they needed her alive. If they hadn’t, she would have been dead already. That bastard Brady would have had his human lackeys kill her. 

So yeah, Dean allowed himself to relax a little, happy that Castiel also seemed more content than he had in a while. Dean knew that Castiel was always the most at ease ensconced in the evidence of his Father’s creation, and what was greater evidence than centuries old forest? Now that the hundred year old cannibal turned monster was dead anyway. That was until Dean saw Castiel visibly tense out of the corner of his eye. Dean turned and watched as Castiel lifted his face to the sky and pushed carefully to his feet. 

“Dean,” Castiel said calmly, “when I say, you and your brother need to run. Do not stop, do not look back, do not try to help me. Do you understand? You need to go.” 

“Cas what the fuck are you—” 

Castiel spun quickly and lifted Dean to his feet, meeting green with blue, firm and unwavering. “Dean I am dead serious right now, when I say, you and Sam run.” 

“What’s coming?” Sam asked quietly, moving next to Dean and grabbing onto his brother’s jacket, ready to pull him away if the older man resisted. Dean grabbed at Sam’s in return, ready to push him away at a moment’s notice. There was no way in hell Dean was running but Sammy needed to get away. Castiel stood tense, ready, his angel blade in hand twirling at set intervals. Dean recognized the anxious gesture. 

Castiel was a warrior, he was built to fight, designed for combat and when it came to him he was all nervous energy and impossible to keep still. Even if it was just the small gesture of the needless flipping of the angel blade, Castiel was primed and ready. Dean swallowed. 

“Angels, angels are coming. Now. Run! I’ll hold them off, I’ll hold them all off, just _GO_!” 

Sam and Dean were grappling together. Sam tried to follow Castiel’s instructions while Dean tried to push his brother away and to safety. They were both immovable in their struggle and Castiel was ready to send them both flying whether they liked it or not. He could not defend Sam and Dean and fight the angels, especially when he couldn’t get a lock on just how many were coming. 

He reached up to lay a hand on them both and send them back to the Impala when all the tension suddenly drained away from him and the blade in his hand disappeared. 

He looked up and smiled. “Inias.” 

As if the word was an invocation, a fairly tall, slender man with shaggy brown hair and dark blue eyes appeared before them, smiling gently at the small gathered group. “Hello Castiel. It is very good to see you again.” 

Castiel moved forward and pulled the thin man into an embrace which the other angel gladly returned. Dean tensed under Sam’s hand and Sam just patted his brother gently. 

“Not that I’m unhappy to see you, Brother, but why are you here?” Castiel asked. “It’s dangerous for you to be with me. If Michael finds o—” 

“That’s what we need to prevent,” Inias interrupted. “This is not a social visit, Castiel, Michael’s followers have found Balthazar.” 

Castiel eyes widened and his shook his head slowly. “I don’t understand, Balthazar was killed.” 

“That’s what we thought,” Inias agreed. “However, Samandiriel has been keeping watch over Michael and Raphael’s followers, ensuring that our… alternate views, are not suspect. He is young, they trust him, he discovered that a group of Michael’s followers detected Balthazar’s presence. They swarmed him, Castiel, took him. They are interrogating him as we speak in order to find your location and uncover who your followers are. We need you. You are our leader; we need you to help us rescue Balthazar.” 

Castiel’s gaze flicked from Inias to Sam and Dean, who were watching with wary expressions. Castiel didn’t blame them; he himself had warned Dean never to trust angels, no matter who they claimed allegiance to. Castiel knew he could trust Inias and Samandiriel but he wouldn’t dissuade Dean and Sam from their general mistrust. It was safer when they only believed in him. Angels were an underhanded and conniving group. It was easy to be so when so few of them had a conscience. After all, they had been built to fight and to obey. Most of them were incapable of feeling anything other than what Their Father designed them to feel. Castiel wasn’t sure why he was different, or how he was able to persuade others to be as well. He just knew he was. 

“What of Uriel?” Castiel asked. 

Inias looked away. “We are unable to locate Uriel. He has been missing for several months.” 

Castiel tightened his jaw. That was unfortunate news. “Anna? Has her human form been discovered?” 

“Anna?” Inias furrowed his brow not understanding. 

Castiel recalled that only he, Uriel and Michael ever referred to her by the nickname. “Anael,” he corrected. 

“She _fell_ , Castiel,” Inias said, aghast. 

“I had Uriel attempt to locate her. She fell for her love of Humanity, Inias. She can only be an ally. Didn’t he tell you?” 

“Uriel made no such reports,” Inias relayed. That did not bode well at all. 

Castiel clenched his jaw and looked behind him at the humans again. “Inias…” 

“Please, Castiel. We need _you_. _You_ are our leader. If Balthazar brea—” 

“He won’t,” Castiel interrupted vehemently. 

“ _If_ he does, all our work will be for naught. Your humans won’t be able to be protected any longer.” 

Castiel went very still as he contemplated the ramifications of Inias’s words. He was right, of course he was right. Castiel was their leader; he did have the most power at his disposal and most of all Balthazar was his brother, his family. Probably the closest thing he had to the human meaning of the word. 

“Give me a minute,” Castiel said quietly, looking behind him. 

“That is all you can afford,” Inias said warningly. 

Castiel moved away from his fellow angel to the two humans looking at him, curious and anxious. Both had mirrored expressions, their brows set in deep lines as they observed the interaction.

When Castiel was close enough, Dean reached out and grabbed his elbow with what would be bruising force had Castiel been human. 

“What the hell was all that?” Dean asked lowly. “You were speaking too damned fast for me to catch any of it.” 

“How much Enochian do you actually know?” Sam gawped. 

“Enough to get by,” Dean snapped back; that wasn’t important right now. “Cas, what the hell, Man? You said to never trust any angels.” 

“And I stand by that,” Castiel retorted. “ _You_ should not trust them. But this is different. Inias, he’s one of my followers.” 

“Your what?” Dean raised a brow. 

“Just before I left to join you and your family permanently, I had been working on convincing several of my brothers and sisters that Michael’s plan was not what Our Father intended. We were to love and protect humans. That is why Lucifer rebelled, because he refused to love anything beyond Our Father. Inias and some others are the ones I managed to convince.” 

“Did I catch Balthazar in all that angel-babble?” Dean asked, eyes sympathetic. “Have they found his body?” 

“In a way, but not so grim as that,” Castiel smiled softly. “He’s alive.” 

“That’s great!” Dean grinned. 

“Yes, but he has been captured. Michael’s followers have taken him. They are… encouraging him right now to relay what he knows about me and the others.” 

“Okay…” Dean said carefully. “How much does he really know though, Cas?” 

“Everything,” Castiel replied. “But it isn’t just that, I thought he was dead, Dean, but now I know he’s alive. I can’t just leave him in the hands of Michael; you’ve no idea what Heaven’s form of persuasion entails. He’s my brother, Dean.” 

“You need to go,” Dean said flatly. 

“I need to go,” Castiel confirmed. “The markings on your ribs will protect you. You know more now about angels and hunting than you did as a boy. You’ll be fine if you and Sam stay under the radar. I hate to leave you, but at the same time…” 

“Your brother needs you,” Dean said. 

“Yes.” 

Dean nodded stiffly. 

“I’m so sorry, Dean,” Castiel murmured. 

“I get it,” Dean tried a grin. “Family, right?” 

“Everyone will be safer when I get him out, this is for the best.” 

Dean nodded again and pulled Castiel towards him to press a firm kiss to his lips. They rested their foreheads together for a moment before Dean pulled back and nodded once more. 

“Come on, Sam, we’re rolling out,” Dean said voice light. “Good luck, Cas. Stay safe.” 

“You too, Dean. I’ll call you when I’m done and come find you. Keep your heads down. Look for your father.” 

“Cas?” Sam asked. “Is everything all right?” 

“It will be soon. Stick with your brother, Sam, for my sake. He’s not used to being on his own. I don’t think he’s very good at it,” Castiel said teasingly. 

“I can hear you, you ass. Come on, Sammy, losing daylight. Don’t wanna be in these woods overnight… Again.” 

“Watch yourself,” Sam said insistently. “For Dean’s sake.” 

“Of course,” Castiel replied firmly. 

Sam followed Castiel’s short walk back to his brother and sighed when he noticed Dean’s tense shoulders. Sam shook his head sadly and turned back to where the two angels had stood. There was nothing but open air now. Sam jogged back to where he dumped the victims’ bags and scooped them up, carrying the heavy, awkward load over to Dean and dumping some of the bags on his brother. Family was important. And these families needed to have closure. The gear wasn’t much, but perhaps it had meaning and who knew what tokens remained in them? 

“Will you be okay, Dean?” Sam asked carefully after a few moments of plodding through the woods. 

“Oh, Sammy, com’ere, let me cry on your shoulder while you sing me softly to sleep,” Dean rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Sam, really?” 

“Fine, Dean, just asking.” 

“Well, yeah, don’t. It’s not like I’m going to fall apart because I don’t get to see Cas for a few days. I don’t rely on him for my survival or anything. I’m a grown-up and I’m an independent one at that. Being married hasn’t turned me helpless,” Dean groused. 

“I got it Dean.” 

As they walked to the ranger station, Sam wondered what it was like to be married. He had Jessica’s ring tucked safely in his duffle in the Impala’s trunk. That was one thing he was sure to go in and get after he realized she had been taken. He wondered if they rented out their apartment yet or if they were saving it for the new school year in case Sam or Jess returned to it. He also wondered what Jessica’s parents thought. If Cindy and Chester had reported their little girl missing yet, wondered if they wondered about him. Or maybe blamed him. Jess’s mom had never liked Sam, but he had gotten along with her dad all right. 

After Sam got Jessica back, he wondered if she would renew their relationship, if she would even want to or if she would want him out of her life forever. Sam certainly wouldn’t blame her if that was the case but he hoped very much that it wasn’t. He had been happier with her than he ever remembered being in his entire life and if he had to give her up, he wasn’t sure what he would do. 

“You’d like Jess,” Sam said suddenly. 

“Huh?” 

“You’d like Jess. She’s a great girl. I’d even go so far to say you’d probably think she was a cool chick. I may have teased you about your music but she actually has a lot of the same albums as you do. On vinyl even. She thinks it sounds purer. She loves Chuck Norris and liquorice even though I’ve tried hard to talk her out of it. She hates people who are fake and are afraid to be themselves and she loves with her whole heart.” 

“Dude, you’re dating chick version of me, doesn’t that freak you out?” Dean grinned. 

“She was born on January 24th,” Sam chuckled. 

“No way? Weird, Dude, weird. She sounds awesome though, Sam, really. I’m looking forward to meeting her properly when we get her back, and we will, all right? You got my word.” 

“I know Dean.” 

xx 

Over the next several weeks they continued searching for their father and they continued to hunt. It was strange for Dean, to not have Castiel at his side on these adventures but it was also nice to spend some one-on-one time with his brother. Dean had the rest of his life and beyond to spend with Castiel, but one day Sam was going to leave his big brother behind and get married, settle down. 

It wasn’t as if Sam would abandon Dean, but at the same time Sam would have responsibilities elsewhere. He would grow-up, once and for all. The thought made Dean equally sad and proud. 

Dean also couldn’t help be impressed with how much his brother had changed. He wasn’t the chubby little boy any more or the scrawny teenager. Dean actually found it difficult to even continue to call his brother a ‘boy’ even in his mind because he seemed all man now. He was putting on muscle fairly quickly now that the sedentary life of a student had been left behind. And back in Lawrence, Missouri Moseley had been right, Sammy had grown up tall; the guy was a veritable sasquatch now and that was just the tiniest bit unfair. 

“Hey, we should visit Bobby,” Dean said suddenly as they were driving down the highway, Sam behind the wheel (and no, Dean wasn’t panicking thankyouverymuch…  At least not much). 

“Are you sure, Dean?” Sam asked nervously. “We didn’t exactly part on the best of terms.” 

“No, he and _Dad_ didn’t part on the best of terms. Bobby was never pissed at us. I’ve been over there with Cas a few times since the falling out. Bobby’s an ornery old coot but he really is fine with us.” 

“Oh? What was that like?” Sam asked carefully. 

Dean grinned. “Cas and Bobby got along so well I was afraid Bobby would make Cas call him ‘uncle’ like we did when we were kids.” 

“That would be uncomfortable,” Sam chortled, relieved that Bobby had taken the revelation so well. Bobby wasn’t exactly keen on supernatural creatures. 

“Completely. We were safe though. No ‘uncles.’” 

“Well that’s a relief. So Bobby’s?” 

“Bobby’s,” Dean nodded, “he’ll be glad to see you.”


	7. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**  

 _January 10 th, 2006_            

Bobby’s was a fair distance away and the car never failed to soothe either of them when they weren’t the one in charge of it. Dean had conked out hours ago and Sam felt his own eyes growing heavy with only the lights on the blacktop and Dean’s even breathing to keep him company. He yawned again for the fourth time in five minutes and was just about to give up and find a motel to crash in for the night when the ringing of a phone startled him. He patted his pockets down and pulled out his own quiet little device. It was Dean’s then. 

“Dean,” Sam flicked his gaze over to his brother. “Dean. Phone.” He was out like a light. 

Sam sighed and kept his gaze on the road while groping around in Dean’s pockets. He finally managed to dig the phone out of the inside pocket of Dean’s coat and flipped it open. “Hello?” 

“Sam, is that you?” 

Sam felt his breath catch at the voice, he could hardly believe it, after all this searching and chasing. “Dad? Oh my god. Dad, are you hurt?” 

“I’m fine.” 

“We’ve been looking for you everywhere. We didn’t know where you were, if you were okay.” 

“Sammy, I’m all right. What about you, Dean and that pet angel of his?” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw Dean stir and blink at him sleepily. 

“Cas?” Dean mouthed. 

Sam shook his head then answered his father’s question, “We’re fine. Dad, where are you?” 

Dean sat up quickly at that question, his eyes wide, he moved to reach for the phone but Sam twisted away. 

John said, “Sorry, kiddo, I can’t tell you that.” 

“What? Why?” Sam asked. 

“Sam, is that Dad?” Dean demanded, reaching again and glaring at his little brother. Sam glared right on back but refused to give over telephone rights. 

“Look, I know this is hard for you to understand. You’re just gonna have to trust me on this,” John spoke again. 

“Dad what the hell is going on? At Jericho, we saw that symbol. You left your journal… Dad, tell me what’s happening,” Sam said. “Dean and Cas said that it was a fricking angel banishing sigil.” 

“Look, I can’t get into this right now,” John was beginning to get aggravated; Sam could hear it in his tone. 

Sam slammed on the brakes and cranked the car onto the shoulder, tires skidding on gravel. “Dad, you can’t mess around with angels,” Sam shot back. 

“Angels? Sam, dammit, what’s he saying? Give me the fucking phone,” Dean growled. 

“I know that, Sam! Listen, Sammy, I also know what happened to your girlfriend. I’m so sorry, I would have been there to stop it if I had known sooner.” 

“Do you know why they took her?” 

John sighed. “I have an idea, yeah.” 

“Dad, you have to let us help. I need to get her back,” Sam was speaking quicker now; from his father’s voice he knew his minutes in this conversation were numbered. 

“No!” John said, his voice dark and gruff. “You and Dean can’t be any part of this.” 

“What?” Sam’s own voice was rising out of frustration. “Why not?” 

“Sam give me the fucking phone, or I swear to god, I _will_ beat your ass,” Dean was out of his seatbelt now. Sam scooted further away, twisting around himself. 

John continued, “Listen, Sammy, I’m calling to tell you that you and your brothers have gotta stop looking for me. I need Castiel to stick by and protect you two. All right? Now, I need you to write down these names.” 

“Names? What names? Angels? Dad – talk to me, tell me what’s going on.” 

“Look, Sam,” John’s voice was gruffer and angrier now, “we don’t have time for this. This is bigger than you think, they’re everywhere and that’s literal. Even us talking right now, it’s not safe.  If you want to get Jessica back in one piece you will listen to me. Now I’ve given you an order. You stop following me and you do your job, understand? Take down these names.” 

“Da—” Sam tried again. 

“Give me the fucking phone, Sam,” Dean managed to snatch the little device away from his brother. Dean glared at Sam the entire time he listened to their father. Dean dug around in the glove box for a pen. He paused again and grimaced at something else their father had said, but Sam couldn’t tell what, the voice was just a tinny-sounding blip across the short space between them. 

“Cas isn’t here right now,” Dean said quietly. “I’ll give him the message, just tell me what you need to ask… Because he isn’t, Dad… Sorry… Yes, I’ll ask him to call you when he gets back… No, he hasn’t been gone long. He’ll be back soon,” Dean grimaced at his own words then closed the phone with a snap. 

“You lied,” Sam remarked in awe. “You _never_ lie to Dad.” 

“Shut the fuck up and drive, Sammy, I’m too pissed off to talk to you right now.” 

Clearly, Bobby’s would have to wait. 

“Dammit,” Dean said after a few moments of riding in silence. 

“Oh, are we speaking now?” Sam asked sarcastically. 

“Shut up. Burkittsville, Indiana sounds like a fun town. If I’m right, we’re probably dealing with some sort of deity. Annual cycle of killings, the fact that it’s always a man and a woman who disappear. The couple part is probably more out of convenience than necessity,” Dean sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “We’ll know more when we get there.” 

“We aren’t going to Indiana,” Sam said carefully. 

“I’m sorry, I thought I just heard you say we aren’t going to Indiana,” Dean replied, his tone deadly even. 

“Well, I didn’t stutter,” Sam replied snidely. “Look, the number was a California area code – Sacramento, that’s where Dad is, that’s where we’re going.” 

“Sam…” 

“Dad’s got a lead on Jess, Dean, I don’t care if it’s demons, angels or the Sith. Any way you look at it, he needs our help. Besides, if he has a way to get her back, if he knows what took her and _why_. There is no way I’m sitting on the bench.” 

“Dad doesn’t want our help, Sam. He specifically told us to stay away.” 

“Yeah? That right? Does it sound like I give a fuck, Dean?” 

“Dammit, Sam! He’s given us an order.” 

“So? We don’t always have to do what he tells us to. What happened to you being a grown-ass man, huh Dean? Jesus, you’re _married_ and you still don’t question anything Dad says? Seriously, I don’t understand the blind faith you have in the man. This is about _Jessica_ , Dean. The girl _I_ want to marry. Would you really buckle down like a good little soldier if it was Castiel who was missing? Or would you try and move Hell, Heaven and everything in between to find him?” 

“Stop fucking comparing him to Jessica, Sam, he’s different!” 

“Why?” Sam glared. 

“Jessica’s just a girl, Sam, Cas is an angel.” 

“Just a girl? _Just_ a girl? So the fact that I love her and the fact that she’s in trouble because of me doesn’t matter? No, she’s _just_ a girl. Well forgive me for being _normal_ and falling for a human being. So, so sorry I didn’t have a pet angel to lap at my heels like you did.” 

Dean gaped, not quite sure how to respond to that. Shocked that Sam would even say something like that to him. Castiel was family, he was important to them all. It really sucked what happened to Jessica and Dean hated the fact that it happened to her but if Dad thought he could handle it, he could handle it. If Sam had been honest with her in the first place, maybe she could have protected herself. But precious little Sammy tried so hard to be _normal_ that he didn’t want to sully his image with the dark family secret. 

Dean didn’t say any of this though, he just watched in silence as Sam pulled the car to the shoulder once again and got out. He began gathering his things together. 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Sam, what are you doing?” 

“I’m going to California.” 

“Come on, Sam, you aren’t serious.” 

Sam didn’t respond, just stared at his brother with a level-gaze and began to walk away. 

“It’s the middle of the night! Hey, I’m taking off, I’ll leave your ass. Let you deal with the angels all own your own!” 

Sam didn’t look back but he did flash his middle finger over his shoulder. 

“Fuck you, Sam!” 

Sam was only half surprised when he heard the tires spin on the gravel and the Impala tear away from the side of the road. His heart sank a little as he stared ahead at the empty darkness, but he was sick of being an obedient child. He was a man now, he could make his own decisions and Jessica’s life was on the line. There was no way he was going to walk away from that when he could do something to help save her. Like he told Dean, it was his fault Jess got into this mess in the first place. 

Maybe if he had told her what was really going on in the dark. Maybe if he had opened up about his family and his past then together they could have prevented this, but he had been scared. Scared that at the first hint of his freakiness she would dump his ass faster than he could blink. He wouldn’t even blame her if she did. 

Sam wasn’t lucky enough to fall in love with a supernatural being at thirteen. Dean didn’t realise how easy he had it. The world that most people thought was real was a scary one for people like him. Dean had never had to face the possibility of his heart breaking when he revealed the reality of the world, because Castiel had been more enmeshed in the world than either of them had ever been. Castiel had seen it all, he could handle it all. Though if Sam was given the choice of having what Dean had or Jessica, he’d pick Jessica every time. Love wasn’t about taking easiest route; Jess was just his perfect fit. 

If Sam hadn’t been so furious, he would have reprimanded himself for thinking Dean had it easy. He had faced a whole other realm of prejudice after all and continued to face it every day but Sam was pissed and he didn’t care. He just wanted Jessica back. Unfortunately, California was a long way away and Sam was beginning to wish he’d never left it in the first place. 

He had either been walking longer than he thought or it had been later than he thought, because after what seemed like no time at all he noticed that strange hovering rainy-dawn light had settled over the road. The sky was gray and bleak but brighter and he could see more than a few feet in front of him. The realisation of the hour made Sam notice a dull ache had settled in the balls of his feet and his legs felt shaky and overworked. Sam hadn’t seen another car for hours and the bus station still seemed to be miles away. 

He walked a little further down the road and noticed a huddled brown shape solidify in front of him. Sam was startled to notice as he got closer that it was a petite, blonde young woman. 

“Hey,” he tried to get her attention but noticed belatedly that she had headphones on. He reached out and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. She spun around quickly, tore her headphones away then seemed to relax fractionally. 

“You scared the hell out of me,” she said with a quirky smile. 

Sam smiled back, abashed. “Sorry, didn’t mean to. I just thought you might need some help.” 

She settled back onto her luggage and grinned slowly. “Nope, I’m good.” 

xx 

Dean grumbled to himself; this town was all kinds of unhelpful but his deity theory seemed to be right on, unless there was a crazed psycho-killer around who got his rocks off by dressing his scarecrow up in human skin. He knew he wasn’t mistaken when he saw one of the missing men’s tattoos on the fugly-ass scarecrow’s arm. The only one he seemed to be able to get through to was the girl, Emily, who he ran into at the General Store shortly after his arrival. She was the only one who seemed to remember the couple that drove through last year. 

Though Dean wasn’t buying the apparent memory loss of the other town-folk for one second, he wasn’t an idiot. Dean was really, really starting to miss Cas and Sam. Between the two of them they probably could have got some info out of these people. He pretty well had what he needed if he were being honest, but he figured there would be more to getting rid of the deity than getting rid of the effigy. Cas would know, and Sam could convince this new couple to get out of dodge before nightfall. 

Dean was sitting at the small diner at a table next to the couple and tried one last ditch effort to get them to trust him. It was a gamble though and he didn’t make a habit of broadcasting his personal life in small Indiana towns. “Seeing you two makes me a little jealous,” Dean held up his left hand, flashing the wedding band. Both the woman and man seemed to relax fractionally when they saw it. 

Dean continued, “This was supposed to be our big getaway, you know? Cas got called away on business at the last minute though. Told me to go it alone. I tell ya, Cas would have loved this town. That one is crazy about places like this. I tried to say no, but Cas can be pretty persuasive. Cas’ll  hopefully meet up with me soon. I’m taking lots of pictures though, just in case.” 

“Sorry to hear that,” the woman was sympathetic now, rather than faintly uncomfortable, as she had been before. “Have you two been married long?” 

“Four years,” Dean replied. “You two?” 

The woman blushed. “Three months.” 

Dean winked. “Enjoy it. Sorry about earlier, the whole brake-line thing, I just couldn’t stand the thought of another couple’s vacation being ruined, you know? Dad owned a garage as I was growing up, taught me a lot, thought I could lend a hand. Cas would have done the same. He always likes to help.” 

The woman was unfazed at the pronoun but her husband not so much, his face darkened, as did the face of the ever friendly Scotty who ran the café and who Dean first talked to when he arrived. 

“Well, maybe you taking a look couldn’t hu—” the woman began. 

“No,” the guy cut in, his lip curling. “I don’t think a person like _you_ could handle that.” 

Dean cursed himself for the pronoun slip and then cursed again when the sheriff walked into the restaurant. Scotty had a vindictive little gleam in his eye. 

“Look, Man, I’m having a bad day already,” Dean groaned. 

“Sheriff, I don’t think it’ll be necessary to—” the woman tried. 

“Leave it,” her husband growled. 

“Let’s have a talk, shall we?” the sheriff told Dean. “Not too keen on your kind in these parts. I think it’s time that you move on.” 

The woman gasped a little. Dean tossed her a jaunty wink as he was led away. 

xx 

When Sam turned away from the ticket window to settle in for his long wait for the bus he was shocked to see the woman from the road sitting on the floor surrounded by her bags. Last he saw her she was getting a ride from a shady guy with a van. She had greeted him and introduced herself and now they were sitting at a small table, having eaten far too much greasy food from the chip truck outside, but hey, at least they served beer. 

“So, you sure pick a strange way to go on vacation,” Sam remarked with a small grin. 

Meg laughed and Sam thought it was a nice sound. 

“Oh yeah, it’s all sitting poolside and sipping Cristal for me. Reality? I had to get away from my family.” 

That surprised Sam a little bit. “Oh, why?” 

“Suppose I just had to go out and live my own life, you know? I love my parents, I do, but sometimes they can be well… too parental. They want what’s best for me but what they think is best for me isn’t what I think is best for me, you know? So I decided to pack up and go out on my own instead,” she laughed awkwardly then and took a long draught of beer. “Wow, things you say to people you hardly know, huh?” 

“No, no, I get it, it’s okay. Same sort of thing on my end. I think I mentioned my brother?” Sam waited for her nod of confirmation before he continued, “Well, he’s a great guy but he’s got life all figured out and thinks that gives him the right to dictate mine.” 

“Well,” Meg held up her beer for an impromptu toast. “Here’s to us then, the food might be awful and the beds might be hard, but at least we’re living our own lives and no one else’s.” 

Sam smiled and clinked his bottle against hers. 

xx 

Dean had managed to get to the couple just in time, regardless of the fact that the sheriff had quite literally run him out of town. When he got there, the girl was grateful without a question and Dean counted the fact that the guy no longer looked at him as if his gay was contagious as a win. It seemed he was bang-on with the pagan god theory after what he’d witnessed earlier today and he did the first thing that popped into his mind. He dialled Castiel’s number. The phone didn’t even ring; a small feminine voice told him that the customer he was dialling was out of their coverage zone. Dean grimaced. Yeah, way out of his coverage zone. Sam was next. Dean wanted to check in and make sure he was all right. 

After Sam answered the phone, Dean opened with, “I’m awesome.” 

“Dean?” 

Dean told Sam the entire tale of what he had discovered so far. 

“So you think the scarecrow is an effigy?” 

“I know it,” Dean replied. “Figured it was the case right off, hence the ‘awesome’ but my theory was only confirmed when I noticed them fattening the couple up like a Christmas turkey.” 

“Final meal given to sacrificial victims. So the god possesses the scarecrow…” 

“Gets his tribute – wham, bam thank you ma’am – crops don’t wilt the town continues living on in its precious Stepford hell. As long as they keep it up each year that is.” 

“So, any idea of what god it is?” 

“Thinking Norse, not too sure exactly what though. I’m off to the local college to get some insight from a professor. Since my walking encyclopedia and my back-up reference abandoned me.” 

“Dean…” Sam began, resigned. “Are you hinting you need my help?” 

“Not hinting anything, Sammy, just teasing. I can cope without you two. You know I’m not actually an idiot, I just play one on TV.” 

“Never thought you were, Dean.” 

“Look, I just wanted… I… you know… That shit I said…” 

“Yeah,” Sam sighed. “I’m sorry too, Dean.” 

“I’m just saying, you were right: you gotta do what you gotta do to save the person you love and you gotta get a chance to do your own thing. I got mine, right? I got the fairy-tale, it’s your turn.” 

“Lame, Dude,” Sam grinned into the phone. 

“Shut-up, I’ve been hanging around Cas too much. Guy’s got a hard-on for Disney flicks. Weird as shit, if you ask me. Anyway, my _point_ is, the one and only time I stood up to Dad was for Cas and if I don’t let you do the same thing for Jess then I’m being a hypocrite. So go get your girl, Sammy, go find Dad and give him hell. Just do one thing for me, all right?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Take care of yourself. Don’t got my angel around to fix your broken ass.” 

Sam laughed. “I will, you do the same.” 

“Hey, you know me! Careful’s my middle name.” 

“Funny, here I always thought it was ‘Moron.’” 

“Good _bye_ , Sam.” 

“See you, Dean.” 

Meg had stirred from sleep and had come over to sit next to Sam. “Who was that?” 

“My brother.” 

“What did he say?” 

Sam smiled sadly. “Goodbye.” 

xx 

Dean congratulated himself for his spectacular failure. He slammed his head back against the damp dirt of the root cellar, grumbling the entire time. How was he to know that nutty professor was working with the folks over at Burkittsville? Maybe if he’d done his research on the professor... Dean sighed at his idiocy and realised an angel up his sleeve would be real good right now. Cas was probably busy though, right in the thick of it. Dean had no idea how angels fought battles but he was pretty sure it wasn’t pretty. He just hoped Castiel was all right. 

It wasn’t so bad though, he could figure this out. Besides if it was just him in trouble, at least it was better than some other poor sap. 

The doors opened above his head and Dean geared up to fight. Any notion he’d had to do so deflated instantly. Emily, the girl from the gas station, was being forced into Dean’s pit. He listened as she begged her aunt and uncle to let her go and Dean felt sick inside. 

The aunt apologised but it only seemed half-hearted to Dean, then the doors were closed and they were once again in the semi-darkness of the cellar. Things just got a whole lot messier. 

“Don’t worry Emily, I’ll get us out of here,” Dean vowed. 

“How?” she asked, her voice heavy and raw with tears. 

“Working on a plan.” 

xx 

Sam gnawed his lip as he disconnected his phone for what had to be the tenth time. Dean was still not answering, what was worse was that the phone was going straight to voicemail. It meant one of two things: Castiel had come back and Dean was celebrating, or Dean was in trouble. Judging from what Dean told him about the town, Sam had a feeling it was more likely to be the latter. He tried Cas, but knew the action was futile. 

“What’s wrong?” Meg asked. 

“My brother, he’s not answering his phone,” Sam replied distractedly. 

“So?” 

“You don’t understand, I think Dean’s in trouble.” 

“Why? Because he’s not answering his phone? Come on, Sam, our bus came in. Cali, LA, remember?” 

“Right, you should catch it,” Sam replied. 

“Sam, he’s probably found some chick or something, let’s go,” Meg encouraged. 

Sam actually outright laughed at that despite his worry. “Believe me, Dean Winchester is the last person to run off with some chick. I don’t think his husband would appreciate it much. Besides, I don’t even think Dean would know what to do if he ever had the chance.” 

“Oh,” Meg’s mouth fell open a little in surprise. 

“I gotta go Meg, enjoy California. Take care,” Sam grabbed his bag 

xx 

“Who’s Castiel?” Emily asked, her teeth chattering. 

“My ah… husband,” Dean replied quickly. 

“Why do you keep saying his name?” 

“I’m trying to get him here, but he’s… Caught up.” 

“Wouldn’t a phone be more effective?” 

“Nope, not where he is.” 

“So, the plan?” 

“Working on it.” 

xx 

Castiel cried out as a brother’s blade slid swiftly into him. Waves of Celestial intent or not, an angel blade could harm grace no matter the plane they were on. It was both an advantage and disadvantage. The wound would reflect in his human form in the tender skin of Castiel’s abdomen when he returned to Earth. If he returned to Earth, was his grim realization. Castiel’s followers were strong and were gaining ground, but the other angels had zealotry and determination behind them. 

“Castiel!” Samandriel cried out, dismayed. 

Castiel grimaced. Dean was in trouble. His voice had pulled the angel from battle and now he had a wound to show for it. Castiel cursed his own foolishness. In the days where he had been pure warrior, regardless of whose voice had whispered in his ear, he would not have allowed himself to be hurt. Balthazar had once accused him of going soft and Samandriel the same in not so blunt phrasing. The two younger angels had chortled over Castiel having too much heart but had also showed him that they respected him for it, despite their teasing. 

“Dean’s in trouble,” Castiel said. 

“Go,” Samandriel replied. “Inias!” The other young angel few forward and took Castiel’s position in the formation. Castiel retreated with regret. He couldn’t go there himself but he was sure Sam would make it in time. It was more difficult visiting the younger Winchester’s mind, but Sam was a part of Dean which meant it was possible. 

xx

Sam’s head ached and it forced him off the road in his stolen car. He grimaced as he pressed a palm tight to his forehead, the road blurring in front of him. If there was ever a worse time… Sam shook his head, tried to ignore the pain. 

“Sam.” 

Sam’s eyes flew open. He was no longer in the stolen car but in the driver’s side of the Impala; there was nothing around him but white fog. He gasped looked around and then noticed he had company. 

“Cas!” 

“Dean’s in trouble,” the angel answered, his gaze kept flicking out the passenger window as if he were monitoring something. 

“I know,” Sam nodded. “I’m on my way.” 

“He’s about halfway into the orchard, ten yards away from the scarecrow on the cross – away from the road. He’s tied to a tree with a young girl. If you don’t get to him they will be sacrificed to Vanir. After you rescue him, the villagers will be waiting for you, you may have to fight them…” Castiel’s gaze flicked over again and he seemed to almost spring into action but he held himself still. “It’s a tree, the first tree, middle of the orchard. Burn it and the killings will finish. Go.” 

Sam’s eyes burned as the light flared around him, only to settle into the headlights of an oncoming car. Sam shook his head and put the car back into drive. He pulled away from the shoulder, speeding for Burkittsville. 

xx 

Meg cocked her head at the slumped body of her driver. Human men were so, so easy. It was almost sad. She filled her bowl again and chanted the incantation. The surface of the bowl began to bubble. 

“Hello Mother. The older brother has the angel, my charms will be lost on him…. The younger, Sam, has grief in his heart but there’s hope too… Yes, Mother… I will Mother. It won’t be long now… The girl, is she still alive? We can use her… Perhaps lure Sam? Yes Mother… I will.” 

xx 

Another day gone. Another hunt mostly successful. Dean felt a strange illness in his gut at the thought that Castiel hadn’t come, but Sam told him that Castiel gave him the instructions on how to find Dean. Dean supposed the battle upstairs was worse than he thought. He just hoped Castiel would be back soon. It was harder and harder to sleep with his bed so empty. God, he was pathetic. He didn’t need Castiel to function; he’d lived longer without him than with… Well actually that was not quite true. Castiel had been there for half his life, but it hadn’t been constant. He’d only been there constantly for ten years. Ten years was a long time. 

_June 30 th, 1994_

Dean was giddy with excitement when he felt the familiar tingle creep over his skin. He had only started noticing it the last few months or so. hell, he started noticing a lot of things a few months ago, and one of those things was that he now could sense when Castiel was about to visit. Another was how kissable Castiel’s lips looked. Especially last week when - as a treat - Dad had bought them strawberries (after Sam had begged). Dean had shared the fruit with Castiel. When Castiel bit into a berry, the juice made his lips glisten and tinted the already alluring pink a deeper shade. Dean had been unable to draw his gaze away. 

Dean swallowed the memory away and turned around, shaking his head at his stupidity. Castiel was practically a grown-up; he’d have no interest in a scrawny fifteen year old, even if all Dean could really imagine doing was pressing his lips chastely against Castiel’s own… Well, maybe not only. Dean blushed. 

“Dean, are you all right?” Castiel asked the moment he landed, walking close and taking Dean’s chin in hand without invitation. Dean’s skin flamed brighter and he was mortified. 

“Are you ill?” Castiel added, concern layering his tone. 

Dean shook his head. “I’m fine.” 

“You seem flushed.” 

“Really, I’m fine. It’s ah… a warm day.” 

“Oh…” Castiel seemed unconvinced and voiced as much, “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, totally.” 

It must have been warm in Pontiac, Illinois as well because all Jimmy had put on that morning were jeans that hugged his hips and thighs along with a thin gray t-shirt. Gone was the youthful boy Dean had first met and in his place was a fully formed, stunningly beautiful man. He had even taken to growing out his stubble slightly and it gave new definition to Castiel’s borrowed face. Dean was willing to admit now just how fucking sexy the angel of the lord was. 

“Here, Jimmy wanted me to give you this as a gift for graduating middle school. It’s from the shop he works in. Remember the record store I told you about?” Castiel handed Dean a canvas bag and Dean looked inside. It held _Zeppelin IV_ – the original vinyl. 

“No way!” Dean crowed. “That’s awesome.” 

“He said I’d like it too,” Castiel smiled. 

Over the last couple of years, Castiel had really changed to the point that it was noticeable. He wasn’t that awkward, unsure creature who had saved Dean from the angels two years ago. He was more relaxed in speech, action and had become surprisingly familiar with popular culture references. Castiel had explained to Dean that for most of the time he let Jimmy take control and he sat back and observed. 

Jimmy too wasn’t as shy any longer. When Castiel sensed Jimmy needed a break from his tiny apartment that he could barely afford, he would take Jimmy to Dean and demand that the two of them have fun. Jimmy had confessed to Dean on one such occasion that if he hadn’t met Dean and if he hadn’t been the recipient of Dean’s kindness then he probably still would have been that mousy kid who hid in the stacks at the local library, shelving books. He had always had a fondness for all sorts of music but his group home had only allowed him to listen to gospel, which he hadn’t really minded. He had been content with the status quo until he met Dean and Castiel. The record store was a dream. Even if it was crappy hours and minimum wage, at least he loved it. 

“Make sure I thank him later,” Dean told Cas, tucking the record back in the bag. He had a small portable player on the dresser and he’d play it later for Castiel. Right now though he wanted to catch up. 

“Of course. Are you excited to be out of school for the summer?” 

“Duh! I hate that place, you know? The teachers always treat me like I’m dumb or slow, and half the time I find I’m falling asleep in class because they talk about the same thing over and over again. What really pisses me off is that people ask so many questions that by the time the teacher finally gets to the new information, I’ve slept through it. I don’t know how Sammy puts up with that shit, but school to him is a dream. He’s still in elementary though, so I guess it’s different.” 

“I suppose not everyone is as quick to learn as you and your brother,” Castiel smiled fondly. 

Dean caught himself staring at Castiel’s lips again – the quietly content expression looked good on him. Dean licked his own lips, then shot his eyes back to Castiel, fighting against the blush that threatened to rear its ugly head again. “They just say I’m lazy and stupid. Probably right.” 

“Dean!” Castiel chastised firmly, startling Dean when the angel grabbed at his arms. “Don’t you dare say that! You are not stupid and you are certainly not lazy! They just don’t get the time to get to know you, to understand you. You’re one of the brightest boys I know.” 

Castiel hadn’t meant anything by it. He would never willingly say an insulting word against Dean but that casually mentioned ‘boy’ made Dean flinch and want to recoil and hide. He was right, Castiel saw him as nothing more than a kid. He felt ashamed for thinking that Castiel would imagine him as anything more. 

“Did I say something wrong?” Castiel asked after a few seconds of watching Dean’s downcast expression. 

“No.” 

“Dean.” 

“No, you didn’t say something wrong… Just ah… can I ask you something?” 

“I do believe you just did,” Castiel teased. 

Dean’s eyes flashed. “I’m serious, Cas!” 

Castiel was taken aback; he nodded uncertainly then followed it up with, “Of course, Dean, I’m sorry. Anything.” 

“Anything?” 

“I swear.” 

“Promise?” 

“Yes.” 

Dean swallowed, completely aghast that he was about to ask this, was about to even broach the subject. But he thought he had noticed things the past few months – Castiel’s gaze lingering, a touch a little heavier, a little warmer, a little longer. The way Castiel would smile at him sometimes or the way he would swallow and lick his lips when he was watching Dean but would always try to hide it or cover it up with another action. 

“What do you think of me, Cas?” 

“I’m sorry?” Castiel furrowed his brow. 

“What do you _think_ of me? How do you feel about me?” 

“I think you’re incredible. Brave, strong, cunning, witty, intelligent and you have such a big heart, so much devotion to your family. I admire that, it’s a rare quality in a human, let alone one your age.” 

There it was again, like a punch in the gut or a smack in the face. 

“You think I’m just a kid, don’t you.” Dean phrased the question as a statement. He couldn’t look at the angel and he couldn’t cover up his gloomy tone. 

“I’m not sure I understand, Dean.” 

“I’m just some snot-nosed brat you’re forced to babysit! Isn’t that it? You just see me as a boy, a kid! Not something else, not something _more_.” 

“Dean! I… I don’t… You’re my friend.” 

“No! Something _more_! I guess I am an idiot! I thought I noticed things, but maybe I’m just too young and stupid.” 

“Dean—” 

It was probably wrecked now anyway, but he wasn’t a kid, he was a young man. He was old enough to know what he wanted, old enough to understand. He probably got this stuff more than the kids in his class. He’d been taking care of his family for years and years, that’s not something a _kid_ did. The old woman who used to look in on them from time to time had always said he was more mature than children his age. Maybe Dean knew he wasn’t ready for everything, but just once - just _once -_ he wanted to feel lips pressed against his own – Castiel’s lips. He needed to learn the taste that he had been wondering about for months now. 

He lunged forward. It was messy and awkward and the angle wasn’t right, but he did it anyway, eyes squeezed shut as he pressed his mouth against Castiel’s, or at least he _tried_ to. Castiel stopped him with a firm hold on the young human’s arms, eyes wide and verging on panicked. 

Dean’s heart sank to his gut, shame flooded through him, and he pulled away, scooting back along the bed on the other side, eyes cast down. 

“Dean…” Castiel spoke up softly. 

“Forget it, I got my answer now. Maybe you should go,” Dean muttered. 

“Dean, you didn’t get an answer. I didn’t give you one.” 

“Whatever, Man, the message was pretty clear just now. I get it, okay?” 

“Dean, would you listen to me?” Castiel came around the bed and crouched in front of Dean, trying to catch the green eyed boy’s gaze. Dean didn’t reply either way and Castiel foraged on. 

“Dean, I want you to understand, all right? I was playing dumb, I knew what you were asking of me but things are a little complicated. Not only is this form eighteen, nearing nineteen but I’m also not alone in here. I want you to understand that I, as myself, feel the same way, but I can’t in good conscious consent for two. Not to mention that seeing as this body is legal adult there are limits to what… what would be acceptable with a minor. Not only by law but societal views as well. Besides, what would your father think?” 

Dean blanched. 

“I’m not sure if it’s even the age that would bother him, perhaps not even the gender aspect, but I’m not… I’m not human. This isn’t my body, I can’t just—”

_Dammit Castiel! Kiss him already! I’m saying yes, yes, yes._

_Jimmy?_

_It’s okay. Look at him. Look at how sad he is. I can’t stand to see him so sad. He knows his limits and boundaries. A kiss never hurt anyone. He’s old enough to know he wants that. Hell, fifteen year olds do a lot worse that just **kiss**._  

“Cas, are you okay?” Dean noticed that the angel had drifted away for a second, eyes going blank as he did that weird far-off stare thing, like he was in a trance or trying to think really hard. When Dean opened his mouth again the question never made it past his lips because suddenly Castiel was kissing him. Not quite chaste, but nothing more than a firm press of lips on lips that sent a spark through Dean’s entire body, only to come at rest in his chest. 

When Castiel pulled their lips apart he rested his forehead against Dean’s, closing his eyes. “I tried for a long time to pretend that there wasn’t something here. I didn’t think you’d ever feel the same way and maybe I did try to hide behind your age when I should know better than anyone how capable a young man like you can be when it comes to his own mind and heart. I suppose I was scared.” 

“Scared?” Dean asked, disbelieving. 

“Yes, Dean, angels can feel fear, especially when it comes to these matters. We aren’t supposed to feel at all, though with you, I can’t help it. But I need you to understand that nothing can happen until you’re sixteen. I’ll kiss you and hold you but please do not push for more.” 

Dean nodded quickly. “Of course, Cas, I ain’t ready for that other stuff yet anyway.”

 Castiel smiled. “Good, because I don’t think I am either.” 

Dean snorted. “Dude, you’re a gazillion years old. Are you seriously—” 

Castiel cut him off by kissing him again. 


	8. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

_January 17 th, 2006_ 

Dean opened his eyes and he knew there was something not quite right. He was in a space that seemed to be an absence of space, just nothing but white and vastness all around him. He was also in a thin t-shirt and pyjama pants but felt no chill on his skin. For a moment, Dean thought with a hopeful lurch that Castiel was dream-walking on him, but the aura of this place didn’t _feel_ like Cas and if it _had_ been Cas they’d certainly be someplace a lot more comfortable than this. Castiel would know as well as Dean that there would be no way he was escaping from a dream-walk after so long without a little dream-fucking. 

The hopeful lurch was quickly replaced with a sick dread and Dean looked around for an exit. 

“You aren’t going to find one,” a deep voice rumbled out of the mist and a powerfully-built man’s silhouette followed shortly after. 

Gradually, the silhouette took shape and Dean couldn’t shake how familiar the man across from him looked. It took him a moment to realize that he had seen this man before in a photograph, wearing a leather jacket and straddling an old Indian Chief motorcycle from the ‘50s as he grinned into the camera. God it was his _dad_. No, wait, it wasn’t, his eyes were wrong – cold hazel shards. 

“You aren’t my dad,” Dean said, agitated. 

“No,” the not-Dad smiled darkly and little amused. “I’m not.” 

“You’re an angel?” 

“Yes, I am.” 

“Who?”

The being wearing Dean’s father’s face tutted and strode closer, that same darkly amused smile curling his lips. He stopped mere inches in front of Dean’s face and twisted and tilted it around, eyes gazing hard into Dean as if he were searching for something. 

“Who?” Dean gritted, wrenching his face out of the mysterious angel’s grip. 

“I think this meeting is long, long overdue, don’t you Dean?” 

“Sure, but you know what’s great at meetings? _Names_.” 

“Think really hard, it’ll come to you,” the angel patronized. 

“Why are you wearing my dad?” Dean demanded, not willing to play Rumpelstiltskin with this creep. 

“He’s the last one who said yes, _years_ ago, but that’s not important now. Do you know how vessels work, Dean?” 

Dean didn’t reply. Castiel hadn’t really told him much about it. 

The angel shrugged. “Not important. Anyway, I’m not here to discuss that right now. I’m just here to make sure you’re all right.” 

Dean snorted. “Yeah. Right. That’s swell. And really, I believe you _so_ much right now. I’m touched.” 

“No, really, Dean. I just want to reassure myself that you’re adjusting. It must be difficult. I know it’s been some time now, but it is so hard to tell how quickly these things set in. Also, I’m assuming Castiel only came clean about the entire sticky situation recently. He does have a tendency to be… shall we say… reticent?” The angel smirked and it wasn’t pleasant. 

“What are you talking about?” Dean asked suspiciously, backing up from the angel. 

“Well you know, this is round two of this little event. I wanted to give it another shot. I felt you had an unfair advantage the last time. So I went back and… altered a few things. Including, much to my chagrin, Castiel’s relationship to you. I really had no idea he would be so willing to rebel again and so quickly. You be sure to tell him that when I find him he’s going to be punished for his transgressions and I won’t be lenient about it. 

“Anyway, clearly you’ve forgiven him for manipulating you into this romance. I suppose it could be some strange Stockholm phenomenon. Perhaps it was only natural that you fell together in such a way. Though it is strange, at the end last time, you were just barely friends and now he has you tamed. Devoted. Practically virginal. He reined in Dean Winchester – _the_ sower of wild oats. Remarkable. Anyway, I’m sure we’ll see each other again. I’m glad to see you’re adjusting so well.” 

Dean woke-up. 

Dean was shaken and he didn’t understand what the angel interloper had been spewing in his head. Round two? Reined in? Manipulated? None of it made a lick of sense and Dean was halfway to chalking it up to a crazy alcohol-induced dream and actually very nearly convinced of it. That, however, didn’t stop the tiny, niggling little seed of doubt that had been planted in his mind. Did angels lie? Or were they the often more painful half-truths type? Dean was shocked that he had no idea. 

He fumbled at the bedside table, trying not to disturb Sam in the motel bed across from his. Dean found the mickey of whiskey he had stuck there last night and swigged a good mouthful. It burned going down so he chased it with another. The warmth settling gradually in his gut made his eyes droop again and as he fell back to sleep, forgetting - for the time being - that weird-ass dream. 

xx 

 _January 17 th, 2006 - Later_ 

The rawhead had been brutal and it didn’t look good for Dean at all. Sam was halfway to panic when nearly two hours had gone by without so much as a peep from the doctor. All the interaction he received was from the pretty but grating nurse asking him about lapsed healthcare coverage and the police officers asking him question after question about just what exactly had happened in the damn house. How could Sam have been so stupid as to leave his brother alone like that? What had he been thinking? Sure, it had been important to get the kids out - there was no way he was disputing that - but at the same time, he’d just walked away without a backward glance and he hadn’t dragged Dean’s stupid ass with him. 

Sam finally let himself relax a little when he saw the doctor approach; his intent was clearly sharing Dean’s condition. Tension eased prematurely only to double when the doctor told Sam just how serious Dean’s condition actually was. What was worse was Dean’s typical ‘devil-may-care’ attitude towards the entire thing. Sam wanted to do something about it so, so badly but his hands were tied. 

Dean’s heart was damaged; he only had weeks to live – _weeks_. At least that’s what the chances would be for most people, but the Winchesters weren’t most people and they had other avenues to explore. Dean had put up a fight over the issue but Sam wasn’t about to take this one lying down. He stayed until visiting hours were over, not even risking a few minutes to make two short phone calls while his brother was still in reach. Back at the motel however, Sam got to work. 

Sam knew the first thing he had to do without a doubt and sat at the foot of the motel bed, hands clasped, arms rested on his knees, head bowed. He cleared his throat, “Ah… Cas? Castiel. Look, it’s Sam, and I don’t really know if I’m saying this right, but I pray to God that you can hear me. I don’t normally direct one of these things to someone in particular, but I’ve seen Dean do it a few times. Look, Dean’s hurt and it’s pretty bad. I know you’re busy rescuing your brother but Dean… They _say_ Dean is going to die. I’m not going to let that happen, though; they don’t know the things we do. So if you can get down here, it would probably be a really good idea. But I swear, Cas… Castiel. I won’t let him die. Um… Amen?” 

Sam was sure he’d never felt more awkward in his life. The next call he made was more traditional. He left a few of his contacts a message and then started a search on the computer, then dialled a number that was now more familiar to him than his own apartment’s since he had dialled it so many times with the same result: no answer on the other side. Sam knew his dad wasn’t too keen to hear from him, but he needed to know about Dean, without a doubt. 

Sam left a shaky voicemail, hating the fact that his eyes were burning with threatened tears and his throat felt thick and tight. “Hey, Dad. It's Sam. Uh...you probably won't even get this, but, uh...it's Dean. He's sick, and uh...the doctors say there's nothing they can do. Um...but, uh, they don't know the things we know, right? So, don't worry, cause I'm, uh...gonna do whatever it takes to get him better. Alright...just wanted you to know.” 

That was that, now Sam just had to play the waiting game, but sitting idle was never something Sam excelled at. He only had two return calls, and though one seemed like a probable solution, he had hoped for a little more choice. Now the room had been quiet again for nearly thirty minutes. It was almost a relief when he heard a sharp rap on the door. Thinking it was a maid, he welcomed the small distraction that telling her that her services wouldn’t be required presented. It wasn’t the maid. 

“Jesus Christ, Dean, what the fuck are you doing here?” Sam helped Dean across the threshold and then to one of the chairs in the motel room. The firmer base of it would offer more support to Dean’s damaged body. Dean sank into it gratefully, panting slightly with the strain it took to get here. 

“Not gonna die in a hospital where the nurses aren’t even hot,” Dean grumbled. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like you spare anyone a second glance.” 

“Nah, but sometimes they get a first. Allowed to look, Sammy, just not touch,” Dean grinned but it was clearly forced. 

“You know, Dean? This whole I-laugh-in-the-face-of-death thing is clearly crap, I can see right through it.” 

“Yeah, whatever,” Dean dismissed. “Dude, have you even slept? You look worse than me.” 

“I’ve been scouring the internet and calling every contact in Dad’s journal.” 

“For what?” 

“A way to help you. I mean, I gave Cas a shout too, but I don’t know if I did it right. Haven’t heard from him yet and he was the first call I made.” 

“You what?” Dean demanded angrily. 

“Called Cas. Jesus, Dean, he’s the first person who should have been made aware. You mean in the last few days it hasn’t crossed your mind _once_ to tell your husband that you’re fucking dying?” Sam was angry himself at that little inference. 

“He’s busy, Sam, he’s rescuing his brother. I’m not about to pull him away from that.” 

“You’re _dying_.” 

“So you’ve said. I ain’t worried.” 

“Well whatever, one of Dad’s friends, Joshua, gave me a call back. He told me about a guy in Nebraska. A specialist.” 

“You aren’t going to let me die in peace, are you?” Dean huffed. 

“I’m not going to let you die, period,” Sam vowed. 

xx 

After Sam had ordered Dean to bed and buried him under about a half-ton of blankets, he went out to get some additional supplies for the trip. Nebraska was a few hours away and they would need to be prepared. Dean had been drifting in and out of sleep in his little brother’s absence but his eyes flew open when he felt a tingle like a kiss ghost over his skin. 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean grinned. “Guess Sam didn’t have to worry after all, huh?” 

Castiel smiled. “Hello, Dean.” Castiel’s face sobered when he said, “I must admit, I’m a little pissed off at you. After I went to Sam to find out where you were, he told me you wanted to keep this a secret from me.” 

Dean face fell a little as he grimaced, pushing himself up. “Cas, that’s not really… I didn’t want to pull you away from your battle. Balthazar is your favourite and closest brother; I don’t want to come between that.” 

Castiel came over to the bed; he was trying to make his gait firm and resolved but Dean noticed there was something off in his step. Dean furrowed his brow at the barely-discernible wince as Castiel began lowering himself to the edge of the bed next to Dean. 

Despite the now perpetual strain on his body, Dean managed to gather enough strength to spring forward and force the baggy folds of Castiel’s trench-coat aside. “What the fuck, Cas?” There was a gaping, angry wound, bleeding not only the red of humanity but also glimmering a blazing blue-white from the deepest recesses. 

“Oh, God,” Dean felt sick, his hand reaching out impotently, knowing staunching the flow would be useless against leaking grace. A wound like this could only be caused by one thing – an angel armed with their sword. 

Castiel grasped Dean’s hands in his own and tucked the coat back over to conceal the wound. “I’ll be fine.” 

“ _That_ isn’t fine, Cas!” Dean eyes flashed. 

“Dean—” 

“I can’t believe you even flew here hurt like that, what were you thinking? Jesus, Cas, you almost died!” 

“Dean, you _are_ fucking _dying_!” Castiel roared back. “To even insinuate that I would for one moment think my injury was more vital than your own is absurd! I’ll heal, you have weeks to live. I’m not going to leave you like that! I _see_ how damaged your heart is, Dean Winchester, I can feel life running out of you! It makes me sick inside; I felt it the moment you were injured but my brothers kept me confined and I couldn’t come. I wanted to be here with every fragment of my being. I was _terrified_.” 

“Cas—” 

“No, stop it. For one moment, think of yourself for a change, Dean. You sacrifice and sacrifice and sacrifice and it never even crosses your mind that there are people who love you just as surely, just as fiercely as you love them. If something happened, if you died and I wasn’t with you? I couldn’t bear it. The moment you’re gone from this Earth, I’m following you.” 

“Cas—” 

“How many wa—”               

“Castiel!” 

Cas snapped his mouth shut. 

“Now you listen to me,” Dean gritted out, his face pale. “This is me thinking of myself. I need you to go.” 

“What?” Castiel gaped. 

“I need you to go. You’ll heal faster with your brothers right? Up in the heavenly angel hospital or wherever they had you holed up?” 

“I…” 

“Cas?” 

“Yes,” Castiel forced out. 

“Good, because listen up. If you want me to live out the weeks until you’re well enough to heal me again, I need you gone. Don’t even try to tell me you can heal me now because the moment I see grace, I know you’re little more than a baby in a trench-coat.” 

Castiel pouted after that proclamation. 

Dean chased the insult with a gentle smile and a squeeze of Castiel’s hands. “Look, you want me better, you gotta get better. I won’t be okay if I’m stuck worrying about you the entire time. At least upstairs I know you’re being looked after and protected. I can’t do anything for you. I don’t got much soul left for you to charge off and you’re not well enough to heal me. If we tried either one we’d only be killing each other. So I’ll stay here and do as little as possible and you do the same on your end, all right?” 

“You want me to leave you,” Castiel repeated, hurt. 

“No, I want you healed and you want me alive, which means you gotta go, otherwise you’ll give me another heart-attack from worrying. If I had known this was the shape you were in, I’d never have let Sam pray to you in the first place. I can’t believe he even sent you here after seeing you like this.” 

“Well, in Sam’s defence, he’s not quite as adept as reading me as you are,” Castiel said. 

“No one is,” Dean winked. His breathing increased again as he felt the painful constrictions of the muscles in his chest at the prolonged upright position. Castiel saw and tried to ease him back on the pillows, only to cry out - sharp and startled - when he realised he had pulled his own wound. 

“Quite a pair, the three of us,” Dean muttered, dropping himself to the pillows after putting a restraining hand on Castiel’s chest. 

“Dean, I’m so sorry,” Castiel said sadly, this time lying gingerly next to Dean. “I should have been there.” 

“Did you get your brother?” 

“Yes, he’s safe now, healing as well. They did quite a number on him.” 

“I’m glad he’s safe. Don’t apologise, Cas, okay? You did what you had to. How long until you’re better?” 

“If I return to Heaven immediately, then one human week,” Castiel said confidently. 

“Then shake a tail feather, Mister Winchester, you got some healing to do. I’ll see you then. I can hold out one lousy week,” Dean’s grin was small and tired but his clouded eyes were still warm. “Thus with a kiss—” 

Castiel interrupted with just that before Dean could complete the famous quote. “I always hated that play. Not one of Shakespeare’s most clever.” 

“Well, Dude, you’re like the only one in the world. I mean, even I know that one,” Dean said sleepily. “Now go before we start talking about larks and nightingales. No tragic romances happening here, capiche?” 

“I capiche. I’ll see you in a week, if I see you before then in Heaven, I will resurrect you only to kill you myself,” Castiel vowed. Castiel strained and kissed him again before - with a faint flutter and the ghostly brush of feathers over Dean’s skin - Castiel was gone. 

No more than fifteen minutes later, Sam barrelled into the room, grin firmly planted on his face. His eyes flicked around the small space, the grin slowly falling when he saw no sign of anyone other than Dean, who was still laid up in bed. The older man who had been drifting off to sleep woke again at the commotion. 

“Hey, Sammy.” 

Sam took a few strides across the room and peered uncertainly into the washroom before turning back. “Where’s Cas?” 

“Gone upstairs,” Dean replied. 

Sam looked to the motel’s ceiling and was about to comment but his eyes widened as something clicked into place before he could. “What? To Heaven?” 

“I’m a little ticked at you, Sam. You never should have sent him here.” 

“What do you mean I never should have sent him here? Why aren’t you better?” 

“You mean you really didn’t notice? Dude was spilling grace all over the place! He nearly died, a few inches higher and he _would_ have. He was in no shape to be flying around, let alone heal anyone.” 

“I didn’t… He seemed fine when he popped into the Impala. I nearly swerved off the road, but he seemed _fine_.” 

“It doesn’t matter now. He’s gone back to Heaven to recuperate and then he’ll be back to heal me up as soon as he can. I’ll be fine.” 

Sam set his white shopping bag down, gnawing his lip nervously. He had been all set to stow his items in the Impala and take a few days rest after Dean’s close call. Never in a million years had he thought that Castiel would be unable to heal Dean. It was a power the angel avoided using, but in life or death situations he had been known to bend his self-imposed rules. 

“When will Cas be back?” Sam asked timidly. 

“About a week.” 

“A week?! You may not have a week, Dean!” 

“Sam—” 

“No, no way, I’m not letting you talk your way out of this one. I am _not_ letting you die. It’s a damn good thing I didn’t toss that address for the specialist. We’re going.” 

Dean tried to open his mouth to protest, to assert that the safest thing for him to do right now was stay stationary but he saw the determination radiating off of his brother’s entire body. In moments like these, Dean thought Sam had never looked more like Dad. John and Sam had the same pit-bull resolve, the same single-minded dedication. God he was like their dad. So, so much. 

Dean just sat quietly while Sam moved around the room, quick and efficient. He had them packed up and ready to go in less than ten minutes. 

Sam loaded the car then returned to help Dean. Dean tried to fight him off but failed; he just succumbed to Sam’s coddling as the younger man led him to the passenger seat of the car. 

xx 

When they rolled up outside a large white tent, the ground thick with muck and packed with cars, Dean felt a sinking deep in his gut. He pushed the car door open, the familiar creak doing nothing to settle him. Sam ran over to help Dean out of the car but Dean pushed him away, grumbling. 

“You lying bastard, thought you said we were seeing a doctor.” 

“I believe I said specialist. Look Dean, this guy is supposed to be the real deal.” 

“Bullshit. There’s only a select few things that prance along this marble’s crust that can actually heal people. I bang one nearly nightly and the others don’t exactly do house calls. So why the hell would some preacher from the Midwest be able to heal people?” 

“Maybe God works in mysterious ways,” a lilting feminine voice called from behind. 

Dean turned to see a beautiful, petite blonde smiling faintly at him from under her umbrella. 

“Yeah, well, I’m intimately connected to how mysterious God works, Lady. Faith ain’t exactly my problem, believing that this guy can do the work of angels? Now that’s far-fetched.” 

“So it’s nice to know you believe in something,” the young woman mused. “You almost sound like you know angels personally.” 

Dean grinned. “I’m Dean, this is Sam.” 

The young woman raised a brow at the abrupt subject change but shook his hand and answered, “Layla… So if you don’t believe, then why are you here?” 

“Apparently my brother believes enough for the both of us. I tried to tell him I’m covered but he’s convinced I’ll keel over any second.” 

Layla tried to speak again but she was interrupted when an older woman who shared enough of her features to indicate they were related linked their arms and pulled her away. “Come on, Layla, it’s about to start.” 

Layla spared them a quick smile before she was out of their line of sight. 

“Well that was educational. Can we go? If I stand in this mud much longer I’m gonna get trench foot.” 

“Come on,” Sam said, aggravated, and tugged Dean towards the tent. 

They slogged through the well-trodden field, Dean shivering by the time they reached the relative warmth of the tent. Even with his sweatshirt and coat, his body found it difficult to ward off the chill. He was ready to plunk his ass and hunker down in the first available seat, but Sam once again dragged him off and away. 

“Let’s just sit here,” Dean tried to protest. 

“No, we’re sitting at the front.” 

“What for?” 

“Come on.” 

“For Christ’s sake, Sam,” Dean grumbled. He ignored the glares he got at the invocation and resisted the urge to snap out that their saviour was his brother-in-law. He figured this was a pretty God and angel fearing crowd and they wouldn’t take too kindly to the insinuation that a lowly human could ‘corrupt’ an angel. 

Sam was coddling again as he led Dean away. “You all right?” 

“I’m good, Dude,” Dean slapped his brother’s hands away. “Get off of me.” 

The opening lines of the service were pretty conventional and Dean felt his discomfort grow with each uttered word and the combined zeal of the surrounding crowd. It was no secret that religion made him uncomfortable. Hell, he hadn’t even believed in God until he had cold, hard proof in the form of his husband. Castiel’s very existence meant that a God existed. Dean still wasn’t sure what to think of his absent father-in-law but he kept his mouth shut about it around Castiel. Guy had more faith than the entire garrison combined. He was so, so convinced that God would intercede if things got really messy, but Dean honestly wasn’t too sure. He figured things were pretty damn messy as it was. The Twentieth Century was a real trip, and so far the Twenty-First wasn’t shaping up to be much better. Maybe the world would be better if it burned. Dean grimaced. The moment he thought that, the crowd roared around him, invoking the very thing that Dean was silently railing against. 

Dean tuned back into the service just in time to hear the preacher say, “It is the Lord who does the healing here, friends. The Lord who guides me in choosing who to heal by helping me see into people's hearts.” 

Dean couldn’t stop himself from turning to Sam and muttering, “Yeah, and their wallets.” 

“What was that, Young Man?” 

Dean’s eyes widened; he muttered a short, “Sorry.” He hoped it would be enough for the preacher, Roy, to turn a blind eye to him and keep on going. Dean grimaced at his poor choice of words when he looked back on stage and the few snatches of the earlier service filtered through his mind. 

“No, no, don’t be. Just gotta be careful what you say around a blind man, Son. We got real sharp ears,” Roy remarked, his tone amused with a slight smile to match. The audience tittered and Dean looked down and away. 

“What’s your name, Son?” Roy, much to Dean’s further mortification, asked. 

“Ah… Dean.” 

“Dean? Well, why don’t you come on up here, Dean.” 

The crowd murmured excitedly. Dean’s head shot up and he shook it almost violently. “No, no thanks. Got it covered. Promise.” 

“Well, come on, Dean, don’t be shy. You came here to be healed didn’t you?” 

“No I—” 

Sam didn’t let Dean finish. He prodded his brother out of the seat with a goofy smile on his face and an encouraging nod. Dean felt like a kid being shunted off to pre-school for the first time. No way in hell did he want to go up there. He didn’t even _need_ to. If Sam would only listen to reason. 

“Look, just pick someone else. I got my own angel on my shoulder, I’m good,” Dean tried. The crowd wasn’t too keen on that, their excited murmuring turned slightly hostile. 

“Now, now, Folks. It’s refreshing to see a young man with so much faith. Just proves my point that he deserves to come on up.” 

No one was having any of Dean’s denial. He couldn’t resist any longer and found himself on shaky legs in the middle of the small stage. The sick dread that had filled him when he stepped out of the car increased tenfold when he stared out at the hypnotized faces of the audience, their eyes almost glistening in their fervour. 

Roy began to pray; the crowd joined him and Dean felt a chill dance up and down his spine. It was so completely different than when Castiel healed him. That was all heat and warmth and love. This felt wrong, dark. Not quite evil but also not close to benevolent. Dean wanted to run and he spared the thought that if he didn’t die from the rawhead attack, then the anxiety building up under his skin would kill him. His chest was already constricting painfully. When he glanced behind Roy, he saw an old, gaunt man in a funeral director suit. Dean’s legs gave out and he collapsed. 

He heard Sam’s plaintive cry, then felt Sam’s familiar grip on his hoodie. Dean gasped and his eyes shot open. The man behind Roy loomed and disappeared. Everything about what had just happened screamed _wrong_. 

xx 

“Fuck!” Michael tossed a silver serving tray across the room. The resounding clatter and metallic clang did nothing to lessen his anger. “That miserable, stupid, ape escaped it _again!”_  

The plan was supposed to be flawless. Lure Castiel away from his pet human by kidnapping Castiel’s favourite little turncoat. Get Castiel killed or at least injured gravely enough to prevent him from healing Dean. Ask Fate to work a little of her particular brand of magic, and have Dean keel over good and proper. Then it would only be a matter of time before the first seal would break. 

Michael hadn’t managed to secure his vessel, but this should have been child’s play. The hunter put himself at risk so often that it wasn’t even that difficult to ease him into just the right precarious situation. The vessel aspect would come with time. 

Now though, Castiel was once more off the grid, tucked away in his little pocket of Heaven. Michael’s last few pawns were out of play and Dean fucking Winchester was still very alive and kicking. The most guilt ridden human to ever walk the Earth, but alive and guilt ridden was still _alive_. 

“This shouldn’t be so difficult!” Michael grimaced when he thought of his next course of action. It was time to deal with a few devils. The act was unclean, unthinkable, but he was running out of time and options. Not to mention patience. 


	9. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

_April 15, 1995_  

John Winchester wrenched the Impala’s wheel roughly to the right as he slammed on the brakes. The tires squealed and Dean flinched, convulsively grasping at the door handle. He met Sam’s startled gaze in the rear-view mirror and tried to smile at his brother reassuringly. He figured it only had to be a matter of time. Castiel wasn’t exactly being subtle. Dean heard the blue ’87 Civic squeal to an abrupt halt behind them, narrowly missing T-boning the Impala. On Dean’s side too. 

Dean gulped as he watched Castiel coolly step out of the driver’s side, one hand resting on the open door, the metal acting like a make-shift shield between him and the angry Winchester patriarch. John couldn’t _hurt_ Cas, but he could damn well try. 

“What the hell are you and why the hell are you following my family?” John growled. 

“I’m following Dean,” Castiel replied. 

Dean rolled his eyes. Real great Cas. Awesome. 

John came forward when he heard those words and grabbed the front of Castiel’s shirt, slamming him back against the side of the tiny two door import. 

“Dean! Aren’t you gonna do something? Dad has a knife to your boyfriend’s throat!” Sam leaned forward in his seat, his voice panicked. 

“He can stab him all he likes, Sam, might just manage to slow him down. But ah… I probably should explain… Or try anyway.” 

Sam clapped Dean on the shoulder and gave a sober, “Good luck.” 

Dean rolled his eyes again and stepped out of the car. He ran forward and stepped between the two men, noticing absently that he was almost the same height as Cas now. 

“Dad! Dad! Calm down. I know him,” Dean interceded. 

“You know this asshole?” John switched his glare to his son. 

“Yeah, Dad, pretty well,” Dean flushed. 

“How well?” John asked suspiciously, his grip loosening. 

“Biblically,” Castiel quipped cheekily. 

That really didn’t help. Castiel’s newfound sense of humour was awesome and under normal circumstances Dean encouraged it whole-heartedly, but there was a time and a place. Then again, the same constraints didn’t really apply to a celestial being who knew no fear of man. 

John slammed Castiel against the car again, face livid. He pulled back a fist to slam into Castiel’s face but Dean managed to grab his father’s arm and stop the assault just before John could break his hand on Castiel’s jaw. 

“Dad! You do _not_ want to do that!” Dean stressed. “Believe me.” 

“You’re telling me this pervert defiled my boy and I ain’t gonna punch him in the face?” John scowled. 

“Okay, first off, there was no defiling,” Dean reassured. “And Cas isn’t a pervert! I basically had to throw myself at him to even get a damn kiss. The rest came later. Look, Dad, there’s something I kind of need to tell you but can we go somewhere that isn’t the side of the road to do it?” 

John’s gaze flicked over to Dean then back to Castiel; he still hadn’t released the angel, who took everything placidly with a faintly amused smile. 

John very hesitantly released Castiel and took a small step away. “Get in the car, Dean.” 

“The motel is a few miles from here. We’ll meet you and Sam,” Dean replied. 

“What?!” 

“I’ll ride with Cas. We’ll meet you at the motel,” Dean repeated. 

“Get in the damned car, Boy!” John shouted. 

Dean scooted around Castiel and the back of the Civic and slid neatly into the passenger side of Jimmy’s car. Castiel stared at John challengingly. 

“Dean!” John shouted. “Get the fuck out right now, or so help me—” 

“I assure you, John Winchester, no harm will come to your son while he’s with me. In fact at my side is the safest for him. You’ll understand better when we have a chance to explain. I’ll follow behind.” 

Their face-off was silent and tense for several seconds. Dean heard his heart palpitating in his chest as he watched both men glare at each other. John was more imposing physically while Castiel radiated his own quiet force, a hint of danger underpinning his entire frame. John must have picked up on it as well, along with Castiel’s steely resolve because he backed down and returned to the Impala. 

Dean knew he would get it later for his defiance but being in the car next to Cas made it all worth it. 

 _January 24 th, 2006_ 

Dean opened his eyes and smiled. He was in his bed at their house and Castiel had just entered, landing lightly at his side. He woke Dean with a gentle brush against his cheek and a chaste kiss. 

“Happy Birthday and Happy Anniversary,” Castiel greeted. 

“Fourteen years,” Dean mused. 

“Fourteen years,” Castiel repeated. “Before we progress, I just wanted you to know first: I am perfectly well,” Castiel pulled back his trench coat to demonstrate. Dean brushed the spot where the wound had been to verify it for himself. 

Castiel continued, “And second: your friend Layla is healed. She will live a long, fulfilled life doing God’s work and never forget the miracle that touched her. She is a kind soul and a good spirit and it was never in My Father’s plans for her to die.” 

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean whispered. “She’s a good person. I’m glad she’s going to be fine.” 

“I also need to have a chat with your brother about faith healers,” Castiel remarked sternly. “True faith healers only act as the agents of angels and only when they are in line for Sainthood. It’s a favoured method to fulfill the miracle requirement.” 

“He feels like shit, Dude. I think he gets it.” 

“Then I have to speak to him about trusting me to never let anything happen to you,” Castiel sighed. 

Dean let the quiet hang before he briskly clapped his hands. “Are we really gonna talk about faith healers and Sam or are we going to do something about the fact that I’m healthy, you’re healthy, we’re in our house, in our room with a very locked door and it’s,” Dean squinted at the clock, “5:34 am on my twenty-seventh birthday?” 

Castiel smiled and leaned forward, hovering just before his lips touched Dean’s. “What do you propose we do about this fortuitous situation?” 

Dean chose not to answer verbally, he pulled Castiel on top of him and proceeded to kiss his husband senseless.

xx 

Dean rolled over and sat up slightly; he took a quick sniff of the air and then rose an eyebrow at Castiel. Castiel rolled onto his back languidly and pulled himself up slowly. He cocked his head to the side, staring at their closed bedroom door. 

“Is that… bacon?” Dean asked timidly. 

“I think so,” Castiel replied seriously. 

“Awesome. Sammy is the best little brother ever. Kid totally remembered my birthday.” 

Castiel rolled his eyes. “I don’t think he ever _wouldn’t_ remember, Dean. Even when you two weren’t really talking, he sent you a card.” 

“Whatever. _Bacon._ ” Dean scrambled into the closest available clothes - which turned out to be well-loved jeans and one of Castiel’s white button downs - before he scrambled out of the bedroom still unbuttoned. Castiel followed more sedately, pulling on Dean’s discarded pyjamas. Though Dean’s eagerness and excitement did put a smile on the angel’s face. 

When he rounded the corner leading to the kitchen he heard the tail-end of Sam’s words to Dean, “Oh man, that’s a part of you I never wanted to see.” 

“Shut up. I smelled bacon.” 

Castiel heard the accompanying sound of a zipper with Dean’s words. 

“Happy Birthday, you jerk,” Sam said, setting down the plate of pancakes and bacon in front of his brother. Dean then proceeded to drown the entire thing in syrup. 

“Want some, Cas?” Sam offered. 

Castiel grimaced slightly. “I think watching Dean’s treatment of the meal has somewhat diminished my desire.” 

“What do you mean?” Dean asked, his mouth full as he masticated his breakfast zealously. 

“Nothing. I’ll make some coffee,” Castiel replied with a smile. Sam sat down with his own plate. The younger Winchester knew better than to attempt to make coffee. It was one of the few things Sam completely lacked skill in. Not to mention that Dean’s tendency to enjoy it at the consistency of motor oil and the strength of paint thinner made the brew a little impossible to imitate for normal humans. 

“This is great, Sammy, thanks!” 

 _August 2001_  

After some persuading and a lot of effort, Castiel had been integrated as part of their little family. It had been a few years now since he started travelling with them and he had proven to be useful time and time again. He had even cultivated a near-camaraderie with John. The two had bonded not only over being the eldest members of their small unit, but also over the fact that they were both soldiers.    

Castiel’s knowledge had quickly become undeniably useful and it was through Castiel that the Winchesters had finally earned their revenge for their mother’s death. John - for that (if nothing else) - would forever be grateful. 

So John had finally accepted Castiel. Sam had done so since the beginning and had long-viewed Castiel as an additional older brother, even referring to him as such. John had even come so far as to not even baulk at the idea of his oldest son being intimately involved and romantically committed to the preternatural being. Dean would always be protected at least. 

All these factors cumulating made Dean come up with a kind of ludicrous notion, but perhaps not so crazy as that. Dean had been closely following the news lately and saw an interesting development come out of Canada. He had been with Castiel for ten years now, intimately for seven. He didn’t see Castiel going anywhere, nor had he any desire to dip his toes in another pool. That same development from Canada provided a way to make that stick – at least barring divorce. 

Dean bit his lip and wondered if he really could take that plunge, if he really could commit himself forever to Castiel; with Castiel, forever was literally eternity. For the first time though, Dean Winchester had absolutely no misgivings, no twinge in his gut, no erratic thump to his heart. All he felt was a calm resolve and an excited flutter. Dean grinned. 

“Hey Cas?” Dean called. 

The angel looked up from where he was reading at the small living space in their motel room. “Yes, Dean?” 

“I have kind of a wild idea…” 

“Oh?” 

“Call me crazy, but…” 

xx 

“You’re what?!” John Winchester roared like Dean hadn’t seen him roar in years. His face was a brilliant red - the shade any healthy tomato would be jealous of - and Dean could detect a small tremor in John’s shoulders as he tried to contain all that anger and shock into a condensed and singular place. John knew if he tried to lash out even peripherally, Castiel would stop him before he could take his next breath. 

“I mean it’s the most logical step, Dad,” Dean tried. “If it’s legal, why not take advantage of it?” 

“And you’re on board with this?” John turned his penetrating gaze on the angel in the room, the question coming out more as an accusation. 

“It’s what Dean wants, John. I’m perfectly content to go on living as we are but if Dean wants to take advantage of same-sex unions being legalized, then so be it. I can’t think of any reasons _not_ to do it,” Castiel replied easily. 

“You’re too young,” John said, his tone indicating it was the end of discussion. 

Dean snorted and glared at his father. “Asking was only a formality, you know. I’m doing it anyway.” 

“I’ve already had one son abandon me, you want to too?” John flipped tactics, trying for guilt over authority. It was only marginally more successful. 

“Dad, I’m not abandoning you,” Dean replied consolingly. “We’ll take a quick trip to Niagara Falls then Nova Scotia. Spend a few days by the ocean, then be back on the road and hunting in no time. Yeah, sure, we might get a house if we can find one that takes cash payments in a decent area but that doesn’t mean I’m running out on the business. I’m a hunter for life, Dad.” 

“No,” John repeated. “I’m not opening you up to that ridicule.” 

Dean rolled his eyes this time. “I already get shit for it, Dad, slapping a ring on my finger ain’t gonna make that worse. You gonna be at my wedding, or not?” 

“Not,” John answered coldly and there would be no changing his mind. 

Dean heart sank and his face fell but he nodded stiffly and set his jaw. Without another word, he turned on his heel and headed for the exit, snagging Castiel’s hand as he went, but the angel wouldn’t budge. Dean stomped out after that and slammed the door behind him. 

Castiel winced and knew he’d have to apologise for that move later but hadn’t said his piece. 

“Is it the concept of disrupting the marital contract that disturbs you, or do you think I don’t love your son?” 

“What?” John snapped back. 

“Marriage is a union, a commitment, a public intent of devotion. Yes, historically it has been a contract between a man and woman but a contract can be between any two people, and really, that’s what modern marriage can no longer be likened to. Back in the Dark Ages of human history and in historical periods before and after that, marriage was a mere hand-fasting. It was witnessed by those close to the two people, and in everyone’s eyes from that point forward, the two young people would be wed. The contract portion came in allotment of dowry represented by land, livestock, or - in rarer instances - physical coin. It was essentially a family giving over their daughter in exchange for their assets, and for the daughter to be taken care of and sheltered. Love had nothing to do with it the majority of the time. It was convenience. 

“Now though, more romantic notions have been brought into marriage which negates the traditional contract portion of the institution. If two people are in love and wish to remain together for the remainder of their mortal lives, then they marry. You know this, you’ve experienced it. I know how much you loved the boys’ mother. 

“I love your son, John, and I want to be with him for the remainder of his mortal years, and I have the unique opportunity to stay with him beyond that. I really rather we have your blessing in this matter. I know Dean would want you there, but we will go through with it, with or without you. Dean wants to make our union legal and essentially declarative.  I’ve never denied Dean anything he’s wanted. Perhaps you could learn to do the same, in your own way,” Castiel finished, watching John stand there, mute. John made no move to say anything and Castiel nodded sadly. He turned to the door but paused with his hand on the knob, half turning back to John. 

“I imagine Dean will want to be on the road as soon as possible. He already likely has our things packed up, if not loaded in the car. We’ll be picking up Sam, then heading out. If you decide to be there, I suggest you hurry.” 

John didn’t go, and Dean never learned about the exchange, but when Castiel and Dean returned from their wedding in Canada, John didn’t say one word against it. He just shook their hands and slapped a newspaper in front of them, two obituaries circled in red. 

“Got a case, Boys,” John said. “On the road by oh-five-hundred. Get some sleep.” 

It was the first time that John had ever referred to Castiel as one of his boys. 

 _February 28 th, 2006_ 

When Sam spotted the article, he ran out to the garage where Dean was tinkering with the Impala and Castiel was lounging on a lawn chair with a book. The radio was on while Dean and Castiel chatted about nothing and everything. The angel keeping his human company as he worked. 

“Guys!” Sam said, running through the side door and waving the paper like a banner. 

“What?” Dean looked up quickly, banging his head on the Impala’s open hood. He grumbled and rubbed the sore spot. 

“I think I found a gig for us. It’s a bit of trek, but I’m pretty sure this is our kind of thing.” 

“How far we talking?” Dean asked.

“Chicago.” 

“How sure?” 

“Like 98% sure, this article is just funny, Dean, we’ve driven further for less. Young woman gets torn to pieces in her locked apartment, no sign of forced entry, and the alarm was still active when they found her.” 

“So she knew the guy, come on Sam—” 

“They had to cut the chain to get into the apartment, Dean.” 

“Well that is compelling,” Castiel spoke up for the younger boy. “No harm in looking into it, Dean. We have been holed up here for quite a while. It would be nice to get on the road again.” 

“Dude, Chicago is like—” 

“Not even ten hours, Dean,” Sam interrupted. “With you driving, we’d probably make it there in eight.” 

Dean was reluctant to leave their little house. Lately the cases had seemed off the charts. A new one every week just about. Sure, they’d worked a lot when Sam and Dean were kids, but Dad only tended to have a case or two a month. They were now up to four or five, and half the time those were just cases they stumbled on. It was like the entirety of Middle America was going haywire or something. They’d already worked fifteen cases since Dean and Cas picked Sam up back in October. A lot of them were pretty standard urban legend stuff, but that thing with Max Miller had been a little more than crazy. Even with Yellow Eyes dead and buried, it seemed his contamination still existed in the children he had touched. Castiel had assured Dean that it was probably just residual and would bleed out in time. Everything seemed to start when Dad went missing and Jess was abducted. They really had weird lives. Dean wondered if this was all just coincidence or the scheming of angels. However, as the wise and stalwart Bobby Singer believed: there was no such thing as coincidence. 

“All right, we’ll check it out. Not much else I can do to my baby anyway, she’s already just about perfect,” Dean quickly replaced what he was working on and closed the hood. He patted the gleaming metal affectionately and headed into the house. 

 _March 1 st, 2006_ 

Dean crawled the Impala around the metropolitan streets, wincing every time a car came too close. He wasn’t nervous, he just didn’t want any of these big city douches to scratch his baby. City drivers were notorious for their poor performance. 

“Man, I hate working cases in cities,” Dean grumbled. He had circled the block for the fifth time, hoping that something would suddenly open up large enough to edge the long, black body of the Impala into. He’d probably have to settle for a parking garage, which might be slightly safer but at the same time paying for parking was always something he found stupid. 

Sam leaned forward from the back seat, resting on the front backrest. He and Castiel had traded out on the second leg of the journey. “Is that the real reason you weren’t too eager to work this case?” 

“Shut up, Sam.” Then, as if Castiel had worked some heavenly mojo, a space suddenly opened up that had been previously occupied by an Escalade. Dean couldn’t keep the sneer off his face as the Caddy drove by; the completely impractical vehicle practically screamed ‘asshole.’ The pumping Euro bass did nothing to change Dean’s assessment. 

“Are you going to be grouchy the entire time?” Sam sighed. 

“Shut up, Sam,” Dean repeated. 

“We’ll find a bar and get him relaxed, don’t worry, Sam,” Castiel reassured with a teasing glint in his eye. 

“I just don’t get why everyone who lives in big cities has a degree in douchebag. It ain’t a crime to wonder why that is.” 

“Careful, Dean, your hick is showing. Seriously, Dude, you’re basically declaring ‘I’m from Kansas’ right now,” Sam snickered. He leaned back and glanced down at a slip of paper. “So the apartment is two blocks back. You guys ready for this?” 

Dean grimaced and looked down at himself, then over to Cas, scowling at the alarm company costumes Sam forced them into. “We’re burning these after, just FYI. Hard earned cash down the drain.” 

“Whose?” Sam snorted as he climbed out of the car. 

“Mine. You think credit card fraud is easy?” Dean sniped, following Sam along with Castiel. 

“Are you certain the landlord won’t be sceptical about it taking three men to investigate?” Castiel asked doubtingly. 

“Trust me, it’ll get us through the door,” Sam looked up at the building he’d taken them to. “This is it.” 

The landlord turned out to be a landlady and she _was_ distrusting that it took three men to investigate an apparently faulty alarm. She relaxed slightly when Dean improvised and explained that Castiel was an analyst and he and Sam were just technicians. She nodded and walked them up to the room, opening it for them. 

“Are you sure the police won’t mind us having a look around?” Sam asked earnestly. 

“They said they were done. Help yourself… Though can I just say, Boys, your alarm is about as useful as boobs on a man.” 

“Well, that’s why we’re here, Ma’am, to make sure something like this doesn’t happen again,” Dean grinned, all charm. “Could you just walk us through what happened one more time? For the report, you see.” 

“Well, I got a call from Meredith’s work, she hadn’t shown up in a few days and hadn’t called in either. When I came up to check on her… Well, that’s when I noticed the smell,” the woman’s voice faltered slightly. “Funny thing is, they had to cut the chain just to get in the door. Everything was untouched… Except poor Meredith. If I didn’t know any better, well, I’d say a ghost killed her. Only explanation. Like I said: your alarm is man-boobs.” 

“Thank you very much, Ma’am. We’ll get to work immediately,” Castiel replied. 

“I’ll leave you to it then,” she left, shutting the door behind her. 

The Winchesters looked around the apartment, looking for signs of ectoplasm, sulphur or EMF. Castiel even did his weird communing with the walls thing but he sensed only a shadowy, unkind presence. He couldn’t place his finger on exactly what it was that he was sensing, but he certainly knew it was old. Castiel was quick to reassure the brothers that the scene was too messy to have been angels. Angels were brutal, yes, but they were also precise and kept it as clean as possible. 

“Cas, you find anything out from the cops?” Sam asked after a few minutes of searching. 

“Most of it we already knew, but there was one thing Officer Gumner did mention that was left out of the newspapers. Meredith’s heart was missing. Then the officer said the most peculiar thing. She seemed incredibly eager to give me a citation. Though I explained calmly that I did nothing wrong. She just smiled and told me I was ‘cute’ and handed me a card for further questioning.” 

Dean snorted. “Dude, I thought we’d covered Flirting 101. She was hitting on you. Was she hot?” 

“I suppose she did have a certain aesthetic appeal, but I didn’t pay too much attention,” Castiel replied. 

“Well, good, I can rest assured you aren’t going to run off and elope with the pretty young officer of the law.” 

“I’m already married,” Castiel frowned. 

Sam chuckled lightly and ran the EMF through the kitchen again. 

Dean took advantage of his brother’s absence to give Castiel a quick, chaste kiss. He turned back to the blood. There was something that looked off about it. “Hey Sam? Can you find some tape?” 

Sam came out a minute or so later and handed Dean a roll he had found in the kitchen. Dean kneeled and stared at the blood spatter again. He cocked his head and then stuck one end of the tape down. He followed the splotches, arched around one last time and sat back on his haunches. 

“Shit,” Castiel muttered. 

“You recognize it?” Dean asked, looking towards Sam to see if it rang any bells in his genius baby brother’s noggin. 

“Daeva,” Castiel answered. 

The name sparked a memory in Dean’s mind and he cursed faintly. 

“What? What’s a Daeva?” Sam asked. 

“Very old. Two-thousand years before the birth of the Saviour. It’s Zoroastrian.” 

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but those are the bastards that are kinda like demonic pitbulls, right?” Dean asked. 

“Yes, that’s an apt description,” Castiel replied grimly. 

“That doesn’t sound good,” Sam grimaced. 

“It really isn’t,” Castiel concurred. 

xx 

It was a rather fortuitous chance that their victim, Meredith, worked in a bar. Grim way of looking at it, but true. Both Sam and Castiel had promised Dean a chance to unwind so they managed to cover both in one trip. 

Dean was being his usual flirty self, trying to get information from some of Meredith’s coworkers. None of them really believed that speaking to the bartenders would give them any information on who would possibly want to summon a Daeva, and why they would want to do so to hurt Meredith. No one seemed at all hostile toward the girl. 

As Sam watched Dean lean over the bar close to the female bartender, Sam glanced over to Castiel, trying to figure out how the angel put up with that. Sam wouldn’t like it if Jess went around and hit on anything with two legs, but then again, Jess wasn’t like that. Dean had always been kind of flirty. Castiel was calm and reserved as usual, skimming through a newspaper, a beer at his elbow. Sam shook his head. 

Dean came over, a crumpled napkin in his fist. 

“You get anything, besides the bartender’s phone number?” Sam asked sardonically. Castiel gave a tiny amused snort but didn’t comment further. 

“Dude, I’m a professional, I’m working,” Dean rolled his eyes. Then he grinned, abashed and flashed the number before ripping it up. He leaned down and gave Castiel a slight kiss on the cheek. Sam saw the blue-eyed man’s lips curve up in a faint smile. 

“I don’t get it,” Dean mused, “the gay guys can totally sense I’m taken and they flirt back playfully but nothing beyond that. The chicks though? Man. Is being unavailable suddenly a turn on?” 

Women are notoriously competitive,” Castiel answered easily. “Have been since the dawn of your species. Despite an apparent attachment, if a male is attractive enough the women of the group will compete to try to steal him away. Breeding purposes. You’re gorgeous, so I don’t blame them.” 

Dean blushed faintly and took a swing of beer. “So… Wha—” 

Sam stood up suddenly, interrupting Dean and moved quickly across the floor. 

Castiel and Dean exchanged curious glances. 

“Something I said?” Dean remarked idly. 

Castiel gave a half shrug in response and got up to follow, snagging Dean by the hand to drag him through the crowded tables. 

They arrived just in time to catch the tail-end of Sam asking a petite blonde girl, Meg, about California. 

Meg replied, “Oh, I did. I came, I saw, I conquered. The whole scene got old so I’m living here for a while.” 

“You’re from Chicago?” Sam asked. 

Dean and Castiel could both hear that he had a peculiar tone to his voice, as if something wasn’t quite sitting right with him. From the way Castiel’s hand tightened around Dean’s, Castiel must have _felt_ something too. He was staring at her chest though. Dean glared and smacked him, quietly communicating his displeasure at his husband staring at some chick’s rack. Castiel glared back and shook his head, flicking his own gaze down on Dean’s chest, where the amulet Sam had given Dean for Christmas all those years ago was visible. Dean cocked an eyebrow in response. 

“No, Massachusetts – Andover. Gosh, Sam what are the odds we’d run into each other?” Meg said. 

“Yeah, I know. I thought I’d never see you again.” 

Meg smiled a little flirtatiously at Sam. “Well I’m glad you were wrong.” 

Dean cleared his throat, feeling distinctly on the sidelines of this conversation. He wondered absently if this Meg chick was one of Sam’s mysterious college friends. Though Sam had never mentioned her before. At least, Dean didn’t _think_ Sam ever mentioned her before. 

Castiel leaned forward and tapped Sam lightly on the shoulder, his eyes questioning. 

“Oh, sorry. Meg, this is my brother Dean and his husband, Castiel,” Sam finally introduced. 

She passed a glare fleetingly across Dean but her gaze lingered a little longer on Castiel, her pink lips curling up in a small, sultry smile. Dean felt Castiel tense, but he didn’t have time to ask Castiel about it because Meg’s gaze lost all interest and warmth when she shot a hostile look at Dean. 

“So, you’re the infamous brother who has it all figured out. I’m surprised you’re down here with us plebs. Real nice of you to treat your brother like luggage, by the way. You seem like a swell guy,” Meg said, icily and unprovoked. 

Dean was genuinely taken aback. “Sorry?” 

“Excuse me, Miss, I don’t think—” Castiel tried to defend. 

Meg interrupted, “Why don’t you let him do what he wants? You got your own life, if Mister-Tall-Drink-of-Water is proof of anything, why can’t you let Sam find one for himself?” 

“Meg, it’s all right,” Sam soothed before Dean came up with an acerbic retort of his own. 

Meg looked slightly chagrined and turned her now earnest gaze back towards Sam. “Sam, I’m sorry… Just the way you said he treated you. If it were me, I’d kill him.” Meg smiled at Castiel again, though her eyes were hard. “You sure you know what you’re in for, Clarence?” 

“My name is Castiel,” he replied coolly. “And after thirteen years I’m rather well-versed in all things Dean. But thank you for your concern.” 

“Whatever.” Meg turned back to Sam again. “Anyway, we should hook up sometime.” 

“Yeah,” Sam agreed though he was slightly edgy. He was hiding it well though; if Dean and Castiel hadn’t known him so well, they wouldn’t have seen it. 

“I’ll show you a hell of a time,” Meg persuaded. 

Sam slapped on his happy puppy grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You know, that sounds great. Why don’t you give me your number?” 

Castiel and Dean exchanged glances again while the other two gave their final pleasantries. Sam was up to something and Castiel was on board with it, but the entire thing with Sam’s and Castiel’s combined reactions was making Dean slightly uneasy. If he hadn’t had his angel co-pilot maybe he wouldn’t have noticed but Castiel was pretty bugged by the seemly-innocuous blonde girl, and her calling him Clarence didn’t sit right with Dean at all. The only popular reference Dean knew for that particular name was a movie angel, it seemed like way too much of a coincidence to be arbitrary or an understandable mistake. Dean may have let her get away with Casper, but not Clarence. 

The three of them gathered their papers and left the bar once Sam had wrapped everything up with hot little Meg. 

“Well that was a big steaming pile of weird,” Dean said as he unlocked the Impala. “Who the hell was she?” 

“I don’t really know. I only met her once. Meeting up with her again? I don’t know, Man, it’s weird.” 

“What the fuck was she going on about? I treat you like luggage? What, were you bitchin’ about me to some chick?” 

Sam sighed and sought out Castiel for support but the angel was locked away in his own little world, his expression tight and puzzled as he stood stock still looking like the completely otherworldly creature he was. 

“It was after we had that huge fight back in Indiana. I’m sorry okay, but that’s not what’s importa—” 

“You’re free to go whenever you want, Sam,” Dean interrupted petulantly. 

“Dean, would you listen?!” 

“What?” Dean snapped back. 

“There’s something strange going on here,” Sam said grimly. 

Dean nodded. “Yeah, I got that. That chick was all over Cas, Dude. Not cool. Speaking of Cas, what was all that in there with you, Feathers? I mean, you can be abrupt sometimes but you’re never outright rude. And her necklace?” 

Castiel snapped out of his reverie. “Once we get back to the motel, I’ll explain. I don’t think talking about this in the middle of the street will do any of us any good. Suffice to say, I agree with Sam – wholeheartedly. Something strange is indeed going on here.” 

xx 

As had been habit of late, they rode over to their motel in awkward, tense silence. Sam had secluded himself to the back seat and Castiel was worrying at his ring, staring out the window. Dean’s hands were tight on the steering wheel; even the radio was silent. He was torn between being angry and anxious but was just sitting in an uncomfortable, tangled knot of both. 

He stopped and parked harder than he normally would have, flying into the spot in front of their motel room faster than he would have liked. 

“Everyone inside, now,” Dean spoke, hard and clipped. The two passengers obediently piled out of the car. Dean opened and held the motel room door for the two men and followed after. He locked it tight behind them. 

“You,” Dean pointed at Castiel. “Speak.” 

Castiel glared at Dean briefly in response to the treatment but shook his head and sighed. It wasn’t worth getting angry at. There was way too much fighting lately anyway. He was done with it. 

“Do you remember a few months ago, I told you about that young woman who flirted with me at the motel bar?” Castiel said. 

“After we brought Sam away from his place in California? The second time, I mean…” Dean ventured. 

“Precisely. The girl was also named Meg, which could easily enough be a coincidence, it isn’t exactly an unpopular name. However, what struck me then and what struck me again just now was the oddity of the necklace she was wearing. I had even commented on it. It appeared to be an occult object but even I failed to recognize the symbol the pendant bore. She had claimed she was coerced into purchasing it by a friend at a craft sale. The Meg we ran into just now also wore the exact same necklace. She seemed to be attempting to hide it, but nonetheless I caught a glimpse of it when she leaned in to speak with Sam. And what is it we always say about coincidence?” Castiel explained. 

“That there’s no such thing,” Sam said grimly. “Dean, my reaction was along the same line. Running into her again like that? It’s just too weird, even for us. I think she may be mixed up in everything.” 

Dean stared at both men for a moment, evaluating what they said before he nodded once. “Right, well, you got a last name and point of origin. Look her up.” 

Sam was already sitting in front of the computer. He had pulled it out and sat down almost as soon as they entered the room. His fingers flew across the keys, but after only a few second’s search his shoulders slumped, dejected. He spun the screen around so Dean and Castiel could see it. They leaned in, Sam clicked and a photo popped up. The girl was younger and had longer hair but she was real. 

“Well, guess your Spidey senses are off guys, sorry,” Dean said with an easy shrug. 

Sam shook his head. “No, not that simple. I’m going to follow her.” 

“You really think that’s a good idea, Sam?” Dean remarked. 

“I can’t let this slide, especially if Cas agrees with me.” 

“Fine, go get your perv on, whatever. We’re gonna look into those victims, see if we missed anything. Just don’t get yourself in trouble, Little Brother,” Dean conceded. 

Sam left without another word, the Impala’s keys in hand. 

Castiel moved to sit down to open the files again but Dean reached out and snagged him by the belt loops, pulling him close and kissing him deeply. It took a second due to his surprise, but Castiel responded energetically, allowing himself to be backed against the table. His hands came up to grasp at the short strands of Dean’s hair at the back of his head. 

After a few moments Dean pulled back. “Hey, I’m sorry, Dude. I was pissed at what Sam said a million years ago, taking it out on you wasn’t cool.” 

“It’s all right. A lot’s been happening lately. An unsettling amount, actually. Something big is inevitably on the horizon; I just hope we’re prepared.” 

“God, why is everything happening now?” Dean groaned. “You know, once upon a time we just hunted werewolves and salted and burned ghosts. Now we tussle with angels, demons and everything in between, spewed from God knows where to do God knows what. I mean, really, sometimes I feel my whole life has been a show a puppet-master is putting on. I’d like to say screw Destiny. Hell, I’d like to say screw it right in the face, but Jesus Christ, Cas…” Dean shook his head slowly then dropped it on Castiel’s shoulder with a groan. 

“You’re important, Dean, probably more than we realise right now but we’ll figure it out. The three of us.” 

Dean straightened and up winked, he flashed a tired grin. “Team Free Will, right?” 

“Right,” Castiel nodded firmly. “I’ll get coffee, why don’t you start on those files again.” Castiel ushered Dean to one of the chairs and pushed him down. He checked his wallet briefly then left the room. 

“You haven’t asked him yet, have you?” a familiar voice drawled idly.               

Dean stood quickly and twisted around; suddenly he was no longer in the motel room but that same white nothing space he had found himself in before. Across from him, leaning against what could only be a wall hidden among all the white was the angel that had visited him before, still wearing his father’s face.               

“The fuck?”               

“I put you down for a little nap,” the angel smirked. “So, why haven’t you asked?”               

“The _fuck?_ ”               

The angel sighed heavily. “Are we really doing this? Really? You really aren’t the brightest crayon in the box, are you Dean? You constantly seem to forget that I’m an archangel and that I want you very, very badly. Or maybe you just haven’t figured that out yet.”               

Dean backed up, his eyes darting around before the bravado reared. “Well, hate to break it to you, Man. I’m taken and though my dad is a fine looking guy, the whole incest thing totally freaks me out.”               

“Always, always joking,” the angel commented. “Dean, have you read the Bible?”               

“Not really my thing. Too preachy. Makes me break out in hives. Really unattractive.”               

“Well, then let me give you some Cliff’s Notes. My name is Michael. I’m a _good_ guy. I protect Humanity. I only want what’s best for my Father’s precious creations. Don’t you understand? I want to _help_ and I need you to do that. Together, you and I can put an end to the looming threat before it even happens. Don’t you want that? 

“Sammy can go on and live his happy normal life with Jess. Have a couple of kids maybe. Your dad can retire and you and that little angel you’ve domesticated can get some dogs and live gaily ever after.”               

“Dude,” Dean glared. His mind was silently reeling with the fact that he was speaking to the archangel Michael and apparently he had got it wrong. He wasn’t Lucifer’s vessel, he was Michael’s. That just didn’t connect.               

“Happily, Dean, ‘gaily’ means happily,” Michael rolled his eyes.               

“Look, Pal—”               

“What did I do wrong this time?” Castiel asked weary. 

Dean blinked, he stood up so quickly his chair toppled to the ground with a metallic crash. “The _fuck_?!”

Castiel put the coffee down quickly and hurried to Dean’s side, reaching out to steady the green-eyed man with a hand on his left shoulder. 

“Dean, Dean. What is it?” 

“Jesus, Cas, something has seriously been screwing with me. I should have mentioned it earlier, but honestly, it slipped my mind,” Dean said, letting out a shaky breath. 

“What?” 

“I… A few weeks ago, and again just now, an angel dream-walked me. I didn’t know who it was, but it’s Michael, Cas. And he’s wearing my dad’s face. My dad when he was a kid, but still my dad. He said… He said he needs me. Does that mean I’m…?” Dean couldn’t even finish the thought. 

“I thought as much,” Castiel remarked, more to himself. Then, “Yes, Dean, it means you are Michael’s vessel.” 

“Dude, he was in my head, does that mean he knows where we are?” 

Castiel was quiet for a moment, then slowly shook his head. “I doubt it. Getting inside your head and finding you physically are two separate things. I’ve warded myself as well so I can’t act like a beacon for them. Though I think it does mean Michael’s growing desperate and a desperate angel can cause a lot of harm.” 

“Shit. He was wearing my _dad_ , how did he even…?” Dean shook his head, not able to imagine any situation where his dad - at least the dad he knew now - would consent to letting an angel come and play. Though, Michael had mentioned that the young form of John Winchester was the most recently used vessel, but Dad hadn’t known a thing about the Supernatural before Mom was killed, so what the fuck happened there? Unless, his dad didn’t tell him everything, which wasn’t at all unusual.

“Did Dad know, Cas? About this shit before it got to Mom?” 

“I didn’t think he was aware but… It is a troubling thing. The young version of your father you said? Could you guess at his age?” 

“Not really, Dude. Mid-twenties, maybe? Probably before I was born but I can’t know for sure. Why?” 

Castiel frowned to himself. “I need to make a call, stay here. Don’t go out. When Sam gets back, make sure he stays put as well. I don’t want either of you out of the other’s sight for a second. Do you understand?” 

“Dude, ixnay the whole talking to me like I’m a kid, shit, I got it.” 

“Sorry,” Castiel said a little distantly as he thought. “I’m just concerned.” 

“I get it, go,” Dean nodded. He felt the tingle in the air just before Cas left, but reached out at the last second. “Wait.” 

Castiel paused and turned, his expression slightly impatient. 

Dean reached out and tugged Castiel towards him, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. Castiel softened under the attention and gave a faint smile. 

“All right. I’m good now,” Dean grinned, stepping back. Castiel’s smile widened slightly just before he gave a small wave and disappeared. 

Dean turned and looked around the now-empty room and his eyes landed on the forgotten files. He sighed heavily. A tight ball of tension was slowly building in his gut and he squeezed his quivering hand into a tight fist before shaking it off. His instincts were shouting at him that something was looming and looming quick. This whole mess was about to come to a head and soon. Dean just hoped that the three of them were ready for it and that the five of them – Jess and Dad included – got out of this thing alive. 

Right now though, he decided to focus his energy on something else, and that something else was the case. Whatever this thing was, was now bigger than a few murdered people. He grabbed his cup of coffee and settled in. He’d be damned if he was moving away from this table without answers. 

Surprisingly, it didn’t actually take long to find those answers. No more than a half an hour at the most, but the fact that it was so simple and that it fooled them so easily took a little longer to swallow. He was still staring at the evidence in black and white when Sam burst into the room, a manic gleam to his eye. 

“Good news?” Dean ventured. 

“I’m going to get Jess back,” Sam declared. 

“What?!” Dean stood quickly. 


	10. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

_March 1 st, 2006_

Sam was pacing the room and gesticulating madly as he spoke, only sometimes glancing at Dean. “Apparently wherever they were holding her isn’t safe anymore, so Meg - who I’m pretty sure is a demon, by the way - made new arrangements. I followed her to an old warehouse downtown. She had some crazy ritual stuff set up, a black altar, the works. She was _speaking_ to someone and saying the arrangements are complete and that they could bring the girl tomorrow around midnight. I mean, that can only be Jess, right? But even if it isn’t - though I’m like ninety percent sure it is - there’s still a girl to save and Meg to get rid of. We should call Dad; he’ll want in on this. He has a little less than twenty-four hours to get here, so if he’s close enough…” Sam was already mid-dial. 

“Sam, wait, wait,” Dean reached towards his brother and pulled the phone out of Sam’s hands. 

“Dean, what are you doing?” 

“It’s a trap, Sam,” Dean said his jaw set. “Jesus, where the hell is Ca—” 

“I’m here,” Castiel arrived with a light brush of wind. “I couldn’t find anything about why Michael would appear as your father, but I did sense something in the industrial district downtown.” 

“Big old warehouse?” Sam asked. 

“I imagine that is what it was,” Castiel said uncertainly. 

“I followed Meg there and I was just about to call Dad and let him know that he can stop looking for Jess. She’s going to be at that warehouse tomorrow. That Meg girl is a demon. For some reason though, _Dean_ doesn’t think we should go,” Sam remarked a little snidely. 

“Dammit, Sam, don’t twist it like that.” Dean met Castiel’s gaze. “I found something when you two were out, I think it’s a trap.” 

“Show me,” Castiel said. 

Dean lined up at the files and circled one particular section in blue ink. He did that for all three and then waited. 

“They’re all from Lawrence?” Sam remarked. 

“Yeah, I went through everything, they got nothing else in common except home sweet home. Whoever is controlling this Dae—” 

“It’s Meg,” Sam interrupted. 

“Well, if that’s the case, then she’s just killing these people to draw us out. Clearly it’s a trap.” 

Sam went grim and silent for a minute, then turned his firm gaze on Dean. “Look, all right, maybe it is, but we can be prepared and we have an angel up our sleeve. I just can’t sit back and let this happen, Dean. I need to be there. I need to get her back.” 

“Sam,” Castiel said gently. “What if they aren’t actually going to bring her? What if this is all just a clever manipulation to get you there?” 

“Well, then clearly it isn’t all that clever. They’re going to assume we realized it’s a trick, but they’re also going to know that it won’t stop us. I _can’t_ leave Jess, Cas. Dean, you understand, right?” Sam’s eyes turned pleading. 

Dean sighed. “Fine, but we go in prepared; we aren’t doing this half-cocked. If Meg can hide from Cas, then clearly we can’t underestimate her.” 

Sam sent Dean a beaming, grateful smile. Even if Dean and Castiel hadn’t agreed, he would have gone alone. It would have been dangerous, but he would have gone. He was just relieved that he’d be going in with backup. 

“If we’re doing this, we’ll need the appropriate weapons. I’ll get the Colt from Bobby and there’s a spare angel blade in the trunk. Then we need a plan,” Castiel said. 

They had taken the Colt from Daniel Elkins years ago. He was an old buddy of John’s and also one of the greatest vampire hunters around. Not all hunters specialized, but those who did were amazing. Daniel and another hunter named Gordon - who also specialized in vampires - had nearly hunted the bastards to extinction. Dean wasn’t about to shed a tear over it.  

Back when they were after the yellow-eyed demon that killed Sam and Dean’s mom, John managed to convince Elkins to give him the legendary gun that he had been keeping safe all those years. It was the only thing they knew of at the time that could kill a demon. John had just never managed to swing by and return the gun. Dean grimaced and thought Daniel must be pissed. They should probably make the trek out there soon when everything was settled to give it back. Bobby had been keeping it safe, locked up in his basement in the meantime. After all, they didn’t need to concern themselves with bullets when they had an angel at their side. 

xx 

Castiel returned and the first thing Dean noticed was how agitated the angel looked. He was worrying at his ring the moment he landed and sought out Dean’s gaze. 

“What?” Dean asked immediately. 

“Your father took the gun.” 

Dean didn’t really see the problem. “So?” 

“Well, it just seems unusual. He hasn’t bothered with it for years then suddenly he marches over to Bobby’s and picks up the gun? Bobby said John didn’t even explain why he needed it. He just sort of demanded it and left almost as soon as he arrived.” 

“Yeah, okay, I still don’t quite get why you have a problem with this. So, Dad had some demons to kill, or vampires, or whatever the fuck. As for him leaving basically as soon as he got there, that’s understandable. Dad and Bobby haven’t got along properly in years. Neither of them has ever told me why, but it is what it is.” 

Castiel didn’t look convinced but let the topic drop. “I suppose Sam will be happy.” 

“Huh?” 

“We’re going to have to call your father and let him know about the situation. I’m not allowing you in that room without being properly armed.” 

“Not allowing me, huh?” Dean let a slow smile curl his lips. 

“Honour and obey,” Castiel shot back teasingly, despite how serious he was and the fact that his eyes still looked troubled. 

“C’mere,” Dean said. 

Castiel stepped forward and Dean pulled him in tight, just holding him. Castiel was cool, like usual; angels didn’t burn hot after all. It wasn’t unpleasant though, because it was Cas and he smelled like a valley in the rain and warm, wet earth. Dean felt the steady beat of Castiel’s heart against his own and the slow, carefully measured intakes of air. Angels didn’t need to breathe, but if they didn’t it looked strange. 

Castiel relished in Dean’s human warmth. He breathed in the leather, whiskey, and the faintest traces of old cigarette scent that hung around him. Dean hadn’t smoked in years, but it wasn’t a smell that was easy to get out of his jacket, which his father had worn and smoked in before him. Underneath it all was a secret spice that Castiel could probably identify if he wanted, but he’d never felt inclined to try because he much preferred to think of it as Dean’s scent. This man, this human man, was the most important person in creation to Castiel. The most important thing in the world. Dean had given the angel so much, they had been through so much, and when this was all over Castiel was going to lock them up in their tiny blue house, in their tiny dark room, in their big, comfortable bed and not leave it for a week. Maybe longer. Castiel squeezed tighter. 

“Hey, you okay?” Dean asked softly. “Just another job, Cas. Don’t worry.” 

Castiel couldn’t help but worry though, because he knew there was something about this world that just wasn’t right. It was like looking at a painting that had something deliberately out of place on the canvas and you couldn’t put your finger on what it was until you saw it, and then it was the only thing you _could_ see. That small imperfection among all the beauty. Well, Castiel still hadn’t found the imperfection, but he knew it was there and it was driving him crazy. Something about what they had discussed what seemed ages ago now. A world where Castiel and Dean hadn’t met when they had, a world where Dean was lonely despite all the people he’d touched. 

“I love you,” Castiel said firmly. 

“Yeah, Man. I know. You too. What’s going on?” 

“I _love_ you and that _will_ never and will never be _able_ to change. No matter what. You can do anything, anything in the world. To me, to other people, anything and I will, always, always love you.” 

“Dude, you’re freaking me out,” Dean muttered. 

“I just need you to know, before all this.” 

“Okay,” Dean murmured, sensing the urgency. “Okay,” Dean kissed Castiel, and Castiel leaned into it, pulling Dean tight and close. Kissing back as if Dean were the only thing keeping him alive. Dean moaned into the kiss, pushing back, just as desperate, cupping his hands around Castiel’s jaw and curling the tips of his fingers in Castiel’s hair. 

They were flush together, chest to chest, Dean’s heart hummingbird fast while Castiel’s hammered out the same steady beat. Then they were stumbling backwards and crashing onto the bed, Castiel landing heavy on top of Dean and knocking the air from his lungs. Dean didn’t care, just spared a few seconds to gasp for breath and then he was kissing Castiel again. Castiel was delicious cool heat above him; each brush of his slightly rough fingertips on Dean’s skin sent sparks sizzling through his entire body as if it were the first time all over again. They struggled and wrestled with their clothes, wanting the joy of bare skin on bare skin but needing the feeling of connection all too potently to allow the time to divest themselves of layers. Castiel only managed to get their trousers and boxers down to their knees before they were sliding together, velvet wrapped steel against velvet wrapped steel, gasping and panting into the room, the sound of their mingled, pleasure soaked voices competing easily with the steady thrum of the motel room’s radiator. 

It was over in a flash of blinding white sparks, their skin now damped with sweat mixing with release and they were left panting chest to chest in the middle of the rumpled bed. 

Castiel rolled away when he realized Dean’s breathing was becoming more strained with the added weight of the angel on top of him, but Dean groped and sought out the angel, not tugging him back but settling for fisting his hand in Castiel’s askew shirt, feeling the steady expansion of Castiel’s diaphragm under his palm. 

“You okay?” Dean asked softly after a few minutes. 

“I don’t know,” Castiel admitted. “I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” 

“For jumping you like that.” 

“Dude, if I didn’t want it, you would have damn well known. It’s cool. Clearly you needed it. Sure would like to know why, though.” 

“I’m just unsettled,” Castiel answered with a sigh, bringing his own hand around to grasp at the one Dean still had resting on his stomach. “I suppose I have a bad feeling. Which of course makes me all the more unsettled because angels aren’t prone to anxiety.” 

“Yeah, well, you’re an honorary human. Deal with it. It’ll be fine though, Cas. You’ll see. Not the first time we broke into a den of snakes and rescued the damsel in distress, now is it?” 

“No, I suppose not, but it’s never been this personal before. Sam can’t lose Jessica, Dean. If he did, I’m not entirely sure if he’d ever be able to recover.” 

“Shut up before I make you,” Dean mock threatened. “That ain’t happening.” 

Castiel just nodded solemnly. 

xx 

When Sam didn’t show up to come and get them, Dean should have assumed that something was wrong. As it was, he didn’t think about it too much, maybe still feeling the happy buzz from the impromptu sex or just being relatively content for a change. However, when Dean went over to go get Sam and leave for the warehouse and Sam didn’t answer, well, Dean’s stomach fell to his feet. 

Castiel opened the door in a flash and saw Sam wasn’t in his room and neither were the weapons he brought out earlier to take with him. Just his open duffle bag stuffed full of clothes was sitting on his still-made bed. 

“He wouldn’t,” Dean said quietly, his face white as he looked at Cas. Castiel had two fingers to his forehead and had them flying in the span of a blink. 

xx 

Sam knew he was being an idiot, but he wasn’t about to wait for their father to show up and he wasn’t about to wait until midnight. Sure, the Colt was the only thing that could kill demons long-range, but Sam didn’t have to kill Meg to get Jess out of there. When he managed to get to the warehouse (Impala taken for the occasion), climb painstakingly up the elevator shaft and saw that there was a distinct lack of guard, he merely chose to turn a blind eye to it. He wasn’t stupid enough to believe it was that easy. All he could think of though, in that moment, despite all misgivings, was that he was staring at Jessica’s blonde head, her tall, slim body tethered to a chair and Sam _had_ to get to her. 

“Wow, Sam, I’m actually surprised,” a light female voice drawled. 

Sam paused from where he was edging towards Jess and turned to see Meg stroll casually out of the shadows, her hands tucked into her back pockets a slight smile dancing on her lips. 

“I didn’t think you were stupid enough to come alone,” she continued. 

At the voice, Jess stirred, she lifted her head groggily and danced her brown eyes over to Sam. She was gagged too tightly judging by how red her cheeks were but she was aware enough that she looked shocked and stricken to see Sam standing there. She shook her head slowly. 

“Jessie and I got real close while we were waiting,” Meg added. “You know she was convinced you wouldn’t come. Not because you don’t love her but because she would never want you to risk yourself for her. Then again, she doesn’t know just what you are, does she Sammy-boy?” 

“Let her go; you have me, just let her go,” Sam said levelly, fighting the panic he felt rising. 

Meg smiled, slow and sultry. “Not yet, but soon, if you play your cards right.” 

“Sam, stop!” Dean and Cas had burst in the room in a gust of wind and it was Dean who shouted. “How could you be so stupid, Sam? What were you thinking coming here alone?” 

“Dean, I’m fine,” Sam gritted. “Meg, what do you want me to do?” 

Meg’s eyes had flitted away from the tall young man to run up and down Castiel slowly; they flickered black briefly. “Pleasure to see you again, Clarence. Guess what?” Meg snapped her fingers and Castiel managed to grab Dean tight against him just as the flames sprung up in the circle. “Holy oil!” 

“Fucking bitch!” Dean shouted. 

“Dammit, Meg! You don’t need to do this. Whatever you want, just tell me. Please. I’ll do it,” Sam couldn’t help the desperation that edged into his tone. 

Dean was starting to sweat surrounded by the heat of the flame but that didn’t stop the shudder that passed through him at Sam’s words. Never promise a demon anything, let alone everything – that was rule one. He wanted to say something, anything, to get his brother to be careful and not be an idiot but he knew that look on Sam’s face: absolute, firm resolve. It was the same look Sam wore the night he ran off to Stanford. His next step - if this had been a normal situation -  would have been to have had Castiel fly Sam far away from here and Dean would deal with the demon-bitch himself, but the ring of fire surrounding his life raft was a real impediment to that plan. Instead, Dean just reached down and grabbed Castiel’s wrist, holding tight as he waited for the outcome. 

Meg just kept on smiling. “You’ll do anything I say to save pretty little Jess?” 

“Yes,” Sam said firmly, his voice unwavering. 

“Promise?” 

“Yes,” Sam gritted. 

“Okay,” Meg said lightly. She tossed Sam a knife which he caught instinctively. He stared at it dumbly for a minute causing Meg to roll her eyes. “Jeeze, Sammy, they grew ‘em big and stupid in Kansas, huh? Cut her free.” 

It took Sam another second to register that, but when he did, he rushed to Jessica’s side and first freed her mouth. 

Jess immediately began to speak, “Sam, Sammy, don’t. It’s a trick. It’s okay, just get your brothers and leave me here.” 

“Don’t be dumb, Jess,” Sam said absently, slicing her ropes. “I’d never do that to you.” 

“Listen to me, Baby, it’s okay, really, just go. Get out of here,” Jess was speaking quickly and frantic, her eyes darting to the calmly-waiting Meg. 

Sam had now pulled her to her feet. He wrapped his big arms around her and relished in the feeling of her familiar curves pressed firm against his body. Even after months of captivity, her own special scent still made Sam feel like he was home. He was trembling as he held her, disbelieving of how easy this all was, waiting for the catch but not caring because in this moment Jess was in his arms again. He pulled back and kissed her, tasting the salt of her tears on her lips. 

“I got you Jess,” he whispered. 

“Baby,” Jess sobbed. “Please.” 

“Over there now,” Meg said firmly, flicking her wrist and sending Jess flying away from Sam. She stopped just inches from the flame. 

“Jess!” Sam shouted. 

Meg rolled her eyes. “Gosh, Sam, take a pill. She’s fine. Now, that thing I wanted?” 

Sam looked at her in trepidation. 

“Kill yourself,” the demon commanded airily. 

Sam looked at the jewelled blade he still held in his hand, feeling how weighty it felt against his skin and then sick with dread as his hand twitched of it’s on volition, the only hint of what was to come. He looked over at Dean, Cas and Jess, hoping his gaze told them how very sorry he was before he felt his arm rise high then slam and twist the blade deep into his gut. He choked, stock still for a minute while his body tried to register what happened before he fell forward onto his knees, toppling to the dirty concrete below him seconds later. A part of him that wasn’t rapidly succumbing to shock vaguely heard the mingled shouts of his family and girlfriend as he watched his own blood - disturbingly dark in the low light - flow gently away from him. It was funny how it didn’t really hurt, but he was so, so cold and so, so thirsty and so, so tired. Just for a second he would rest… 


	11. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten**  

Dean couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe, he didn’t even realize he was shaking until he felt Castiel drape his coat over Dean’s shoulders and ease the green-eyed man gently to the ground. It was dark soon after as Castiel pulled Dean towards himself and pressed his tormented face gently against his chest. He felt Castiel speaking, sensed Jessica sobbing but could do nothing but stare at the darkness that was Castiel’s chest as he tried to process exactly what had just happened and why it was he felt so bereft. 

“Look Hotwings, as much as I love this one-on-one time, I really gotta speak to Dean-o for a sec, kay?” Finally sound was filtering through Dean’s ears again, even if it sounded like it was travelling through glass. 

“I will kill you. Slowly, painfully and inventively,” Castiel growled out. 

“Oh I love it when you take charge like that,” Meg purred. “But why not let your boy-toy hear me out before you get smite happy, huh? Though, then again, I’m so, so scared with you trapped in your cage,” she spoke the last words, sounding almost bored. 

Dean had regained enough presence of mind to push away from Castiel’s chest and turn - still shaking - in order to look at the demon. “What?” he rasped. “What could you possibly have to say?” 

Dean did everything he could not to look at the body of his baby brother, absentmindedly amazed at how much red had formed around him. Dean felt like he was going to be sick but swallowed it down. He wanted desperately to gather the torturously sobbing Jessica into his arms but he still was stuck behind the fucking fire. 

Meg sat down on a few stacked crates behind her, crossing her legs carelessly at the knee, bobbing her foot up and down as she leaned back and smiled. “I’ll bring him back.” 

Dean scrambled to his feet, dropping Castiel’s coat. Castiel reached out just in time to stop Dean from crossing the flaming barrier. 

Dean shook Castiel’s hand off and gritted, “How?” 

“Easy-peasy,” Meg shrugged. “You make a deal with me and I call in a favour. Sammy’s back and breathing in seconds.” 

“What kind of deal?” 

“Dean, stop it,” Castiel said quickly. “We’ll figure out another way.” 

“What kind of deal?” Dean repeated. 

“Same one I gave Sam for Jess. You trade your life for his,” Meg explained. 

“Give me the knife,” Dean said without hesitating, holding out a hand.  

“Dean!” Castiel shouted, his grief palpable. 

Meg’s smirk widened. “Well, not _exactly_ like Sam. Resurrection _is_ a little trickier, after all.” 

“Fine. Let’s do it,” Dean said quickly, teeth clenched tight. 

Meg quirked a finger and Dean sailed out of the fire ring, stopping a foot in front of where she was sitting. She rose sinuously to her feet. “See, what Sam and I agreed on was… I guess you could say more like a promissory note. You and I, Dean, will have a contract. Are you familiar with a crossroads deal?” 

Dean sucked in a sharp breath. 

“I take that as a yes,” Meg breezed. 

“Dean, don’t,” Castiel begged, impotent and trapped in the blazing holy oil. 

“I don’t quite have the juice to bring Sam back into the world of the waking, so I have to call a friend of mine for a bit of a back-up and she don’t work for free, let me tell you. The price is a little steep, but I’m sure you won’t have a problem with it.” 

Dean swallowed. “My soul, right?” 

“Maybe you _are_ smarter than you look. Never would have guessed.” 

“Call it in. Bring him back,” Dean’s tone was pleading and he didn’t even care. 

“Seal it with a kiss, Pretty-Eyes… Though if I’m being honest, I’d much rather be taking your angel for a spin. Think the universe would implode if Heaven kissed He—” 

 Dean interrupted her by grabbing her small face in his hands and slamming their lips together brutally. 

Meg stood frozen, startled for a minute, before completing her end of the bargain and kissing back. When Dean pulled back, Meg looked over his shoulder at Castiel, who had turned his face away, unable to bear the image of Dean kissing a demon. He did look up when he felt her gaze on him however and her eyes were pitch black. She licked her lips slowly, tossed Castiel a wink, then turned back to Dean. 

“One last thing,” the demon said; she pulled Dean’s head down so she could whisper into the hunter’s ear while her eyes locked back on Castiel. 

Castiel couldn’t hear but he did see Dean tense and his fist clench tight. 

Meg stepped back and vanished just as Sam gasped back to life. Jessica sobbed and scrambled over to him, hugging him tight. 

Dean walked on shaky legs over to his brother, who was clinging wide-eyed to Jessica while she cried into his hair. Castiel wanted to go to him, to reach out but the fire still burned stubbornly on. 

“H…hey, Sammy,” Dean said with a watery smile. Jess pulled away to allow for Dean to reach out for Sam and pull him close. 

“Thought I lost you, Little Brother. Don’t do something so fucking stupid again, you hear?” 

“Dean? What…? Why is Cas in fire?” 

Dean looked over quickly, Sam still held tight while his gaze flicked around the room looking for something to put out the flames. Castiel just watched the entire thing sadly, not saying a word. 

Dean gave Sam one parting squeeze and a rough kiss on his hair before he handed the young man back off to Jess and pushed to his feet. 

“Hang on, Babe,” Dean said, not meeting Castiel’s eyes. The public use of the endearment and Dean’s avoidance gave Castiel the first clue that something was off. 

“Dean,” Castiel tried quietly. 

“Just a sec. They keep these old alarms wired in case some stupid kids get in here and burn the damn thing to the ground,” Dean hurried across the room and broke the glass before yanking at the alarm and sending water pouring down on all their heads. “There,” Dean grinned as the flame sizzled, sputtered and died. 

“Dean,” Castiel attempted once again, not moving. 

“Sammy, can you walk?” Dean asked, coming back over and leaning down to his brother. 

“Yeah,” Sam said shakily, allowing Jess to help him to his feet, then leaned heavily on the Amazonian blonde. Dean nodded and patted Sam on the shoulder then walked over to Cas and grabbed his hand, weaving their fingers together. He moved to leave the building but Castiel was steadfast. 

“Come on, Cas. We gotta go before the fire department gets here, we probably have like four minutes.” 

“Dean,” Castiel said firmly, his voice rough. “How long?” 

“Huh?” Dean smiled disarmingly. 

“Don’t fuck with me!” Castiel shouted. “How long? How long did that dammed bitch give you?! Tell me!” 

“Come on, Cas, we really need to—” 

Castiel was in Dean’s face in a second, gripping him tight on the shoulders, glaring into his eyes. “Tell me, how long? Ten years? Five? One?” 

“Dean, what’s he—?” Sam started groggily. 

“Don’t worry about it, Sammy,” Dean said gently. 

Castiel shook Dean then and demanded, “How long?” 

“Fuck, Cas! Six months, okay? She gave me six fucking months! Now let’s go!” Dean finally snapped, wrenching himself out of Castiel’s suddenly lax grip and storming across to the exit door and working at the lock. 

Castiel and Sam felt their stomachs lodge in their throats as they followed stiffly behind. 

xx 

When Castiel entered their motel room, he nearly took John Winchester’s head off. As it was, he stopped just in time. He vanished the sword and punched the Winchester patriarch hard in the jaw, pushing him back against the wall. 

“If you had been there, this wouldn’t have happened,” Castiel shoved him once more then disappeared. 

John cracked then rubbed his jaw, shaking his head slowly. “What’s his problem?” 

“Don’t worry about it, Dad,” Dean said, subdued. 

“He ever hit you?” John asked suddenly, face furious. 

Dean snorted. “No, don’t be ridiculous. See you got Sam’s message.” 

“Guess you don’t need this, huh?” John tossed a cloth bundle at Dean, who caught it and opened it up, peering down at the Colt. 

“Nope,” Dean said blankly, dropping the weapon on the bed then walking to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. 

John turned to Sam, about to say an awkward hello when he caught sight of the blood. “What the hell happened to you, Boy?” John rushed to his son’s side and began patting him down. Sam shook his father’s hands off. 

“I’m fine,” Sam said, Jessica huddled at his side. “Dean isn’t.” The two men turned to the bathroom door, the sounds of frantic scrubbing with a toothbrush edging through the wood. 

“What’d that angel do?” John demanded. 

“Nothing!” Sam snapped. “Why do you always gotta blame, Cas? Jesus, he was the only who held this family together when it really mattered. You know that? It wasn’t Cas, it was me. I did this.” 

“Sam,” Jessica interrupted softly. 

“No, Jess. I did this. Dean made that deal because of me, because I rushed in there and didn’t think. If I had just waited, we could have got you out of there.” 

“Tell me everything,” John ordered. 

xx 

Castiel came back that night, torn and bloody, his expression bone tired. He slumped into the motel room and shut the door softly, startling when he saw John staring at him in the dark from the table. Dean, Sam and Jess were asleep on the beds. 

John picked up the bottle of whiskey and poured a glass out for Castiel, setting it down and sliding it to the seat across from him. 

“Did you get what you needed?” John asked calmly once Castiel had sat and downed his glass. The angel didn’t even feel the burn. 

“No.” 

“All that and nothing?” John gestured to Castiel’s dishevelled state. 

“No,” Castiel repeated in a low growl. “None of the filthy abominations are talking.” 

“Can you break the deal?” 

Castiel shook his head. 

John paused for a second, looking away when he asked, “Can Michael?” 

Castiel sucked in a sharp, useless breath but didn’t answer. 

John nodded once and took another drink. 

“I’m not letting him do it,” Castiel vowed. “I’m astounded you’d even suggest it.” 

“It’s better than Hell isn’t it?” John retorted, voice angry and dangerous as he glared across the table at his son-in-law. 

“That’s debateable.” 

John snorted, downed another glass, and got up, heading for the door. 

“Where are you going?” Castiel asked. “You can’t just disappear again. You can’t do that to your children.” 

“Relax, Flyboy, I’m just heading next door to sleep. You’re back now; they don’t need me.” 

Castiel chose not to respond, not because he agreed but because he was taking too much vindictive satisfaction from the hurt swimming in John Winchester’s eyes. It was unkind, but Castiel was going to lose the love of his very, very long life in a mere six months’ time. He had no room for kindness. 

John left with his shoulders slumped, shutting the door softly behind him. 

Castiel traded the glass for the bottle and settled back in his chair, watching the slow rise and fall of Dean’s chest and counting each breath as he tried to sear the sound into his memory. 

xx 

Dean woke to the grey light of dawn and glanced over at the silhouette slumped with a bottle between his fingers at the table that was littered with nearly two dozen more. Dean sighed and climbed out of bed, ignoring the chill of the morning as he padded across the thin carpet and kneeled at Castiel’s feet. 

“You’re back,” Dean observed calmly. 

Castiel didn’t move. 

“You need a shower and a change, Man,” Dean wrinkled his nose. “What’d you do? Hold a massacre?” 

“Yes,” Castiel finally answered, his tone low and bitter. “It didn’t help. They didn’t tell me anything.” 

Dean grimaced and reached out. Castiel flinched away. 

“We gonna kiss and make up, or what?” Dean asked. Again, Castiel chose not to answer. 

Dean sighed, “Did my dad take off again?” 

“Unless it was shortly before you awoke, then no. He was next door sleeping. Went there shortly after I returned.” 

“Cas, look at me, Babe,” Dean pleaded softly. 

Castiel, as if drawn by gravity, couldn’t keep his gaze away any longer, especially not at that tone. But when he did look up Dean saw how utterly wrecked he was. 

“You _sold_ your _soul_ , Dean,” Castiel whispered. “You’re going to Hell.” 

Dean flinched. “It was for Sammy, Cas. If it were me, what would you have given up?” 

“That’s not…” 

“The point? Look, I’m not worried, Cas.” 

“You _should_ be, Dean. You should be very, very worried. This may not be a problem I can fix.” 

“No one asked you to,” Dean said calmly. 

Castiel met Dean square in the eye, aghast. “I’m not going to sit here and let you die and burn! I don’t care if you asked me to or not. I’ll move Hell itself to get to you. I just wish it hadn’t come to this.” 

“Cas—” Dean tried. 

Castiel stood then, angry all over again. “Don’t you understand? That soul wasn’t yours to sell. You promised it to me all those years ago.” Castiel touched a fingertip to Dean’s left shoulder then and Dean hissed at the sharp, quick burn that flared out at the point of contact. He yanked up his shirt sleeve to see a hand print bright red across his shoulder as if brand new. 

Castiel disappeared with a furious flutter of wings. 

“Fuck you,” Dean wheezed out, falling back on his ass on the floor. 

xx 

_Dean didn’t tell anyone about the freaky burn when he saw it in the shower the next morning after his fucked-up birthday. It was strange how he hadn’t noticed it before because it hurt like a fresh burn when he brushed against it. He had to hide his flinches from Sam if he managed to accidently hit it throughout that day and the following weeks._

_Eventually and gradually it began to fade and fall back into the familiar white of all his other old scars and he forgot about it for the most part. He would notice it occasionally, that odd-shaped patch of slightly lighter skin and then forget about it just as quick._

_That was until years later, on his back in the Impala’s back seat with Castiel hovering over him. The angel reached out and laid a hand across the patch and Dean hissed as warmth jolted through his body like arousal. Castiel blinked slowly and peered closer, then smiled faintly bemused._

_“I’m so sorry,” the angel whispered. “I didn’t realise…”_

_“Huh?” Dean asked, slightly dazed. “That old thing? Had it for years.”_

_“Yes, I gave it to you. I just was so desperate to save you. I knew I would have to use some of my grace to knit your legs back together, I just hadn’t realised I left more than a bit behind.” Castiel danced his fingers over the scar before laying his palm flat against it. It flared bright for a second, fitting Castiel’s hand exactly despite age and growth. Dean gasped, his eyes fluttering as he reached out and grabbed Castiel’s wrist, meeting the older man’s gaze._

_“I’m ready,” Dean whispered, pupils blown wide._

_Castiel’s eyes widened and then they both forgot about the scar for a little while._

_xx_

_“So what’s it mean?” Dean asked later, sleepy, sore and content._

_“You’re bound to me,” Castiel explained softly. “I will forever be able to find your soul, no matter where it is. I’m surprised it took me so long to realise. I’ve always felt you there, hovering, but before we became friends I suppose I just let it be.”_

_“So what? You like own me?” Dean asked with an amused scoff._

_Castiel looked embarrassed and looked away._

_“Oh, Man, seriously?” Dean’s amusement drained. Then he said lightly, “Guess we can never break-up then, huh?”_

_That had been the only time they ever discussed it. Castiel never brought it up and Dean never asked again_. 

xx 

“Fuck you,” Dean whispered again, his voice breaking and his throat thick. 

Sam stirred in the bed he was sharing with Jess and Dean closed his eyes tight before slapping on a mask and smiling warmly at his sleepy-eyed brother. 

“Breakfast?” Dean asked. 

xx 

Their father left shortly after they finished their meal. He said a gruff goodbye, hugged them quickly and gave Sam an awkward apology that made them all uncomfortable. Nobody asked where Castiel was. John was too pissed at the angel to care, Jess was too afraid to say anything because she hardly knew her boyfriend’s family and Sam was wise enough to see that Dean did not want to talk about it. Even if he probably should. 

Eventually, after a few days of continuing on in this vein, as they were driving back from dropping Jess off at her parents’ house Sam couldn’t take it anymore. 

“So what the hell man?” Sam asked from the passenger seat. 

“Sam…” 

“Look, I’ve shut up about this for the last three days. I’m not about to keep quiet any longer. Where’s Cas? What happened?” 

“He’s pissed off at me, Sam. It’s that simple,” Dean finally said. “Okay? Nothing more sinister than that. He’s pissed that I killed myself to save you, he’s pissed that I gave my soul up without a thought. He’s convinced there could have been another way. He didn’t say it in so many words, but it’s clear that he’s not on board with this whole thing.” 

“Well, I don’t blame him. What you did was stupid. You know they have something waiting for us, don’t you? Why kill me only to bring me back right away? There’s more to it than that and we walked right into their fucking plan.” 

Dean couldn’t tell who was angrier at themselves. Him or Sam. Not that Dean wouldn’t sell his soul again in a heartbeat to save Sam if he had to, but if he had just waited, maybe they could have got Meg out of there and Castiel could have brought Sam back. Screw the other angels. Instead they were in this situation. But seeing Sam there, pale and still, had been too much for Dean’s shocked mind and body to witness any longer so when he’d heard Meg’s offer he’d agreed in a heartbeat. 

“Why would they want you in Hell?” Sam asked quietly, his voice very young. 

“Wish I knew Sammy,” Dean sighed. 

 _April, 2006_  

“So, did he finally tell you the truth?” 

Dean opened his eyes with a gasp and saw that he was in the same white nothing space from before. Instead of his car though, he was sitting on his bed from his little blue house where he and Sam decided to hold up for a while until they figured out what was going on. 

“Michael,” Dean observed grimly. “Funny, I actually wanted to talk to you.” 

Michael smiled slowly. “So he did tell you then. I don’t sense him around you anymore. He hasn’t been there for awhile has he? I’d say I was sorry, but it’s for the best Dean.” 

“I still have no fucking clue what you’re talking about,” Dean rolled his eyes. “Look, I got myself in a bit of a—” 

“You still don’t know?” Michael’s eyes went wide and then he shook his head slowly. “I really didn’t want it to come to this. But I think I no longer have a choice. I just can’t bear it any longer. You need to know.” Michael was all sympathy as he came close to Dean and sat down next to him on the bed. Dean edged away, his heart suddenly beating a mile a minute in his chest. His body, even in this dream world, was instinctively uncomfortable with being this close to the archangel. 

“What are you doing?” Dean asked edgily as Michael reached out a hand. 

“Showing you the truth,” Michael said gently. 

Dean cried out as Michael’s icy cold hand touched his skin and thirty-four years of alternate memories flooded into his mind all at once. Years he hadn’t yet lived coming back to him as if they had only happened yesterday. A life that was similar but so, so, so different that Dean’s heart ached to see it. 

Jess dead, Dad dead, Sam and Castiel both betraying him. Castiel the strange otherworldly being that pulled him from the pit and manipulated him from day one. The unforgiving angel, the faithless and the fool, all wrapped up into one firm figure with the naïve eyes. Always so blue. 

 _Blue. Blue was supposed to indicate honesty._ He heard that somewhere a long time ago, or maybe it hadn’t happened yet. All he felt right then was sick. 

 _Your soul wasn’t yours to sell._ He heard it different now, a cruel dark growl, Castiel’s eyes flashing as he stormed away. 

“Fucking bastard,” Dean murmured, his eyes swimming. Did he know all along? 

“Why else do you think he came to take you away, Dean?” Michael said, warm and kind, wearing his dad’s young, understanding face. 

“No,” Dean whispered. 

xx 

When Dean woke up he felt disgusted with himself. He threw his used body out of the bed he had shared with bastard who manipulated him since he was only a kid. Tricked him into falling in love. He climbed into the shower and stayed there for a very, very long time. That’s how Sam found him the next morning, shivering in the water that had long gone cold. Sam bundled his brother in a towel and hurried him out of the spray. 

“I need to get outta here, Sammy,” Dean said, his voice thick. 

Sam nodded mutely, not taking a second to ask because the look on Dean’s face sent a spark of pain right through Sam’s heart. He gathered a small collection of clothes and shoved them in Dean’s duffle along with his gun and knife and packed up his own bag. They left the house as it was and Sam drove them away from the tiny blue bungalow that once held so much joy for his brother. 

They drove until Sam could hardly keep his eyes open any longer and then they crashed at the first motel they came across. Sam watched blearily as Dean meticulously sketched symbols on the wall in chalk and painted on the windows in red paint. Sam didn’t recognize them, but they looked like they could be Enochian. Sam didn’t have to think very hard to guess what they were for – to keep angels out. All angels. 

Once Dean was through, he slumped down on the far bed and curled into a tight ball. When Sam saw his brother’s shoulders shaking, he turned out the light and shut his eyes. Dean wouldn’t want Sam to see this moment of weakness. 

xx 

Dean woke immediately when Castiel landed and Castiel was stunned to find himself face to tip with a very deadly looking angel blade. Castiel took one step back and stared at Dean with unconcealed hurt. This was more than just some harsh words spat out in the heat of the moment. Something had happened while Castiel was away collecting his thoughts. He had come back to apologize for his overreaction, but judging by Dean’s furious expression that wouldn’t do him any good. 

“How did you get in?” Dean gritted out. 

Castiel looked around the room and his shoulders slumped. He picked up Dean’s discarded chalk and adjusted the tail of one symbol. The entire room flared for one brief second. Dean looked over to see if the light had disturbed Sam but saw his rumbled bed empty. He opened his mouth to demand Sam’s location just in time to see Castiel slump and stumble, just barely managing to catch himself on a chair. 

Dean fought the urge to run to his side. 

“Sam’s fine. He woke up hungry and went to find some food,” Castiel explained weakly. 

Dean looked at the tiny little tail that was the entire make or break of his wall art and back to Castiel, who had effectively neutered himself. 

“Why’d you do that?” Dean asked warily. 

“What?” Castiel asked, sitting down carefully. 

Dean gestured to his now fixed error. “You fixed it and sapped your own power.” 

“You’re afraid. Worse, you’re afraid of me. If this is the only way I can get you to explain why to me, then so be it,” Castiel answered. “I love you Dean, with all my heart. I need to know what happened because I won’t be able to survive it if this distance between us opens into a chasm.” 

Dean snorted, having a difficult time believing that. Especially after what Michael had showed him. 

“You know damn well,” Dean gritted out, though he did lower the angel blade. 

“Is this about your soul? I’m so sorry, Dean. I shouldn’t have said that. You are your own person, of course. I jus—” 

“It’s not about the fucking soul, Castiel!” 

Castiel flinched, his full name on Dean’s lips sounding like a curse. 

“It’s about how you’ve lied and manipulated me at every turn. Since day one. I was a _kid_. A _kid_. When we met. A thirteen fucking year old kid at that. The perfect age for me to fall right into your lap, just like you always wanted, right? God, it’s _sick_. That’s what it is.” 

“Dean,” Castiel shook his head, face pale. “I don’t under—” 

“Cut the bullshit you fuck. Michael told me everything. He told me all about how he turned back time and how you took _full_ _advantage_ of the situation.” 

“He what?” Castiel asked, voice flat. 

“Oh, never thought he’d fess up, huh? Thought I’d go on living blissfully ignorant about the wh-” 

“He turned back _time_?” Castiel asked, aghast. “But that’s not… It can’t be… Even he doesn’t have that much power.” 

“All this and you’re stuck on that?” Dean gaped. 

“Because it’s nonsense!” Castiel snapped. “Even if Michael _had_ turned back time, which I find highly, highly improbable, I would never have remembered. I’m cavalry, I’m not a general. What happened between us, Dean, happened of its own accord. I did absolutely _nothing_ other than meet you in the middle. I swear to my _Father_ , that’s what happened. Michael is lying to you.” 

“Convenient,” Dean said bitterly. 

“It’s the truth! You’re honestly going to believe Michael’s word over mine?” Castiel found that difficult to process. After all their history, that Dean could even be convinced of such a thing… 

Castiel was calm suddenly, knowing fighting wouldn’t change anything. “Dean, believe me when I say I may not have been one-hundred percent forthcoming the entire time we’ve been together, but I have _never_ outright lied to you and I would never, ever, do anything to manipulate you into this relationship. I’d die before I’d do that.” 

“I might have been more inclined to believe you if he had just told me, but he _showed_ me, Cas. He gave me back the memories.” 

Castiel frowned. “I don’t understand. There wouldn’t be any memories.” 

“Well, I saw something and it sure felt like a memory,” Dean retorted. 

Castiel stood, moved to approach Dean, then felt another wave of weakness wash over him. He looked around the liberally symbol-coated room. 

“Can you show me?” Castiel asked carefully. 

“Why? Michael said you already know,” Dean replied suspiciously. 

“But I _don’t,_ Dean. That’s what I’ve been saying. What Michael implied he did is impossible, unless he had the full might of the archangels behind him and half a dozen Seraphim. There is no way he could have completely rewritten history like that. He’s strong, but he isn’t God. It’s something else. It has to be. _Please_ , Dean.” 

Goddammit. Castiel’s gaze was so earnest that it physically hurt to see the pain so blatant on his face. When Dean took a moment to breathe, Castiel’s truth made far more sense. If Castiel was as callous as Michael had implied, then Dean would have seen indications of it before now, but despite their arguments and squabbles, Castiel had never, ever been outright cruel. The being he saw beating him bloody in an alley and then again in a crypt was not the same Castiel that stood here. Even then though, there had to be more to that ‘memory’ than Dean saw. He was thrust in the middle of it. 

Dean stood cautiously, hating the tiny frisson of fear that shot through him as he approached one of the chalk symbols on the wall. He hesitated for only a second before wiping his palm through it and smearing it into uselessness. 

Castiel let out a breath of relief and smiled nervously at Dean. “May I?” 

Dean sat and nodded stiffly. 

“Thank you,” Castiel said quietly as he approached carefully. He held out a hand and placed it gently on the side of Dean’s face, trying to ignore the flinch and recoil the human gave. Castiel breathed, just for something to focus on as he sifted carefully through Dean’s mind, edging away from more private thoughts that at this time he was not privy to. Once upon a time, Dean told him everything but right now, Castiel had to build the trust up again. To think it could all be torn down so quickly… But maybe not, because there, just on the edge where he was trying not to look, was warmth and light and love and _Cas_. 

Finally, Castiel saw the oily mess that seemed out of place in Dean’s mind. It was almost like a part of someone else stitched onto Dean. Familiar enough. Still Dean, but not the Dean Castiel knew. That’s when Cas understood, as he forced himself to look through the memories even though he found them repellent. Michael had stolen a glance into an alternate world, one where Castiel and Dean didn’t meet until much, much later. One where they were never married and their intimacy was stolen moments drenched in guilt. There was still love there, but there was also too much between them. Castiel and Dean, both the good little soldiers. It was so bizarre how even across universes they still found some way to reflect one another. The good son, fighting for what you were told was right, absent fathers, only ever trying to do the right thing and failing miserably. Castiel pulled away and his heart went out to that Dean and Castiel. Hopefully, they would find their way back to one another once and for all. They seemed maybe to be on their way. 

“Whether intentional or accidental, Michael screwed up,” Castiel explained as he pulled away. “You saw the future of an alternate world. There are millions of them, each springing off through a different decision. The choices we and those around us make influence the path we take. What Michael showed you was another life. How it would have been if he had not moved ahead with his plan when you were still a child and waited until you were an adult. I can only imagine Michael looked into several dimensions and what futures were available to him in order to uncover what path he should take, because in each and every one of those worlds, I can guarantee one thing.” 

“What’s that?” Dean asked softly. 

“That you and Sam win,” Castiel said firmly. “So in this life, he started early, hoping that would change the outcome of things. But it won’t.” 

Dean searched Castiel’s face for several heartbeats and then nodded carefully. “All the same, I think I need some time.” 

Castiel’s heart plummeted. “Of course.” 

“I just keep coming back to what you said, all those months ago. Remember?” 

“I said a lot of things.” 

“When I asked what my life would have been like if we hadn’t met when we did, and you answered so accurately. All the women, never a solid relationship. If Michael’s lying, why would you answer like that?” 

Castiel shook his head. “I don’t know Dean. It was just a thought. I _am_ an angel, maybe once in while the universes bleed through in small ways. I promise you, I knew nothing of this.” 

“All right,” Dean nodded. “I’ll call you, okay?” 

“Whatever you need, Dean.” 

“See you.” 

Castiel ignored the lump in his throat and the rocks in his gut and flew away. 

Dean got off the bed, got a towel from the bathroom - which he wetted with the tap in the tub - and began wiping down the walls. 

“Good omen?” Sam asked when he came in about forty minutes later and Dean was just scrubbing at the last painted symbol. 

“We’re taking some time, but I don’t need these anymore,” Dean answered without turning. 

“What happened?” Sam asked. 

“A lot.” 


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Chapter Eleven**

_May 28 th, 2006_

The windows were rolled right down on the Impala as they drove across farm fields on the freshness and lightness of spring on this surprisingly warm day. Dean had been quiet over the last few months and Sam was beginning to worry. They were halfway through the six months of Dean’s deal and he hadn’t seen Cas since that fateful night in February. Jess was doing good; Sam managed to spend some time with her over his birthday. She was back in school now for a few summer classes, albeit heavily warded. Sam still hadn’t proposed; he felt they had to get to know each other again before he popped the question but that didn’t mean he’d changed his mind. Besides, he had Dean to focus on now as well. Dean, who wasn’t even trying to break his deal, hadn’t even spoken his husband’s name in waking hours though he murmured it each night in his sleep. Was he really going to die without seeing him? Sam felt sick at the thought.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Sam finally managed.

“Windom, Minnesota,” Dean answered lightly.

Sam got out a map and frowned at it. “What’s there?”

“A long overdue trip.”

“Okay, but why?”

Dean shrugged. “Just figured it was about time.”

xx

When Dean pulled up to a small two-storey that fit the small town to a tee, they were met by a scrawny teenager running out of the house, unmindful of the screen door slamming behind him with a big grin on his face, his knobby knees dirty. There was a discarded baseball glove at the porch steps and he still looked faintly sweaty.

“Dean!” the kid called with a big wave.

If Sam had to guess, the kid was no more than fifteen. At least that ruled out the possibility of a weird angel-hybrid love child. Though the kid was awfully friendly with Dean.

“Hey, Kiddo,” Dean said as he got out of the car with the first genuine smile that Sam had seen on his face in weeks.

The boy looked around and frowned. “Where’s Cas?”

Dean’s smile faltered before he slapped on the artificial one that Sam was becoming more and more familiar with. “Busy right now, but I brought someone better.”

“Dean? What’s going on?” Sam asked.

“Sam Winchester, meet Adam Milligan – our half-brother.”

“Sam!” Adam exclaimed happily. “Dean said you were off at school. So you’re done? That’s so awesome. He and Cas talk about you all the time when they visit. Tell me why more than Dad ever does.”

Dean felt like an ass for not talking about Adam to Sam, but the middle Winchester covered it up smoothly with an easy, “It’s great to meet you, Adam. Wow. Remind me, how old are you?”

“Sixteen!” Adam replied proudly.

Dean grabbed Adam around the neck and pulled him in to ruffle his sandy hair. “Not until September you aren’t.”

Adam rolled his eyes and shoved Dean away good naturedly. “Okay, fifteen.”

“Your mom home?” Dean asked.

“Nah,” Adam shook his head. “Double shift at the hospital.”

“Got money?” Dean asked, already patting down his pockets.

“I’m fine,” Adam said quickly, holding a hand up to stop Dean. “Come inside. Mom only has beer when she knows Dad is stopping in but I got some Coke or Ginger Ale I think…” Adam led the way into the quaint, clean house. It was older and a little dark when they walked through the hallway, but the kitchen was cheery and comfortable.

“Coke will be fine for the both of us,” Dean said when Adam held the red and green cans out questioningly. “Why don’t you get cleaned up and then Sam and me will take you out to dinner. Sound good?”

“Sure,” Adam nodded. “Give me fifteen minutes. Make yourselves comfortable.” Adam disappeared up the stairs in a flash.

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam asked, his voice low as he leaned in close.

“That’s Adam. A few years ago Dad fell for a hot nurse who was looking after him, one slipped passed the goalie and wham-bam, you know the rest.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sam hissed. “How could you keep this from me?”

Dean sighed. “Look, Sam. Dad didn’t even tell me, okay? Castiel did. Not right away either. Believe me, I was pissed when I found out that it was being kept a secret but I got to know him and figured that he’d be safer if as little of us as possible knew he existed.”

“So you kept it a secret,” Sam repeated flatly. “I can’t believe you. It would have been nice to know and not be blindsided by this. For a second I thought he was yours, then realized he was too old.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, that’d be a trick. Cas was real good at hiding his baby-bump if that were the case.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “How the hell am I supposed to know, huh? So if you were so determined to protect Adam by keeping him a secret from me - which is stupid by the way and doesn’t even make sense - why tell me now?”

“Because I won’t be around in three months and he needs someone. Dad shows up once a year on his birthday. Sends the occasional envelope of money when he wins enough cash at pool or cards, but other than that, he’s pretty absent. Poor kid’s mom works eighteen hours a day sometimes and he’s left pretty well to his own devices.”

“He still has more than we ever had,” Sam said, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.

“Sam, don’t do that now, all right? I know what you’re feeling. I went through the same thing, but he’s our brother. It was a shit thing that I hid him from you and Dad hid him from us but you know now and I need to know you’ll look after him.”

“Of course I will, Dean. I’m not a cold-hearted bastard. If he’s our brother then that’s all I need to know,” Sam replied. “Though, that said, nothing is going to happen to you.”

“Sure, Sammy,” Dean answered dismissively.

“I mean it. Cas wouldn’t let it,” Sam said firmly.

“What’s Cas up to, anyway?” Adam asked, coming into the kitchen, and if Sam didn’t know any better and he was told the kid wasn’t raised a Winchester, he never would have believed it. Well-worn jeans were traded for the shorts he had on earlier and a plaid cotton shirt replaced the T-shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. The only thing that had him standout were runners instead of heavy boots.

Dean flicked his gaze away. “He just has work stuff.”

“Okay,” Adam said uncertainly.

“So!” Sam said cheerily. “Where’s a good place to eat around here?”

Adam grinned and began talking a mile a minute. They followed him out of the house and waited for him to lock up before piling into the car.

xx

The silence in the car was making Sam’s ears ring. For some reason, Dean chose not to turn on the radio and he stared dead-ahead, both hands on the wheel. Sam looked at his brother nervously, wondering what was wrong or if it was just more of the same. He decided to not pursue his thoughts with words and tackled something that he thought might be safer ground.

“So, Adam…”

“I need you to take care of him, Sammy, you hear?” Dean said sternly.

Sam actually startled a little at conviction in his brother’s voice. “Yeah, Dean, I already promised. I just don’t get why now all of a sudden.”

“I’m staring down the gates of Hell, Sam, why the fuck do you think?” Dean snapped with more venom then necessary.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Dean…”

“Don’t ‘Dean’ me and don’t roll your eyes. There isn’t a way out of this, plain and simple. If Hell deals were that easy to weasel out of, everyone would be making them.”

“Dean, Cas’ll—”

“Cas isn’t here!” Dean shouted.

“And why the fuck not?” Sam shouted back, screw subtly, screw safer topics of conversation. Dean was being an ass and Sam needed to know why. “If you’re dying, why the hell aren’t you trying to spend every waking moment with him, huh? He can’t follow where you’re going. Not like in Heaven where you’d still see each other.”

“Exactly,” Dean whispered quietly.

“What?”

“I’m trying to make it easier. I fucked up a while back, I believed something I shouldn’t have and now I feel like shit about it.”

“Then apologize.”

Dean snorted bitterly. “Yeah, well, if I did that then I couldn’t use it as an excuse, now could I? If he gets used to me gone, maybe it’ll be easier when I actually am.”

“No, Dean,” Sam said, gentle now, “if you continue to refuse to look for a way out of this and if you continue to push him away, when you do die – it’ll kill him. The only thing he lives and fights for is you. Once you’re gone, he won’t be far behind. At least maybe if you say goodbye and give him a few good months, he’ll live for the memories. But this? This is just a sure-fire way to shatter him. Congrats. Keep this up and you’ll be the first human in creation to break an angel.”

Dean didn’t answer but he did turn up the music. Sam wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a bad sign.

xx

Michael felt his skin crawl as he crossed the threshold of the tiny Paris café. Sitting on one of the quaint bistro tables in a white dress with her long brunette hair in dainty curls was one of the vilest abominations to walk the Earth. The corruption of a child alone was enough to send Michael’s will to smite into overdrive but just _what_ resided within meant he was barely contained.

Lilith didn’t do much better as she faced him, but she hid it from the humans behind a demure smile.

“Hello Uncle,” she said sweetly, big blue eyes falsely innocent.

Michael compulsively clenched a fist at his side. He slid into one of the wiry cast iron chairs around the table and nodded stiffly.

“Did Sweet Meg perform to your standards? She’s one of our favourites, you know. Ruby is ever so good but Meg is ever so loyal and so very…” she dropped her voice and grinned, her teeth flashing like little needles for a brief moment, “conniving.”

“She played her roll,” Michael said firmly. He was not about to compliment the competencies of a demon.

“Oh goodie!” Lilith clapped her hands happily. “We should celebrate! _Mother,_ fetch us something to celebrate with.”

The quiet, meek woman at Lilith’s side flinched and rose silently from the table.

“I’m not staying,” Michael said firmly. “Everything is back on track. That’s good enough for now.”

“Such a party pooper,” Lilith pouted. “Good bye then, _Uncle John_.”

Michael got up and left the café, desperate to return to the hallowed walls of Heaven and cleanse himself of the filth of his brother’s twisted spawn. Michael couldn’t suppress his shudder as he took to the air. He couldn’t be there long; he still had work on Earth unfortunately, but he could remain long enough to scrub himself clean.

_June, 2006_

It was a month following Sam’s first meeting with Adam that the ringing of a phone had Dean slapping around groggily to silence it. He briefly considering just hitting ignore and letting it go to voicemail, but the small, niggling voice warning him that it could be important stopped him. That voice sounded like Cas. God, Dean missed Cas. Over the last several weeks he had been seconds away from calling him and begging for forgiveness, but had always stopped himself at the last second. Despite Sam’s words that night in the car, Dean still firmly believed that what he was doing was - in fact - for the best. He knew Cas better than anyone. Maybe with luck, Cas would end up being too pissed off at Dean to miss him. Dean smothered the voice in his head that told him he was being a moron.

He finally got the phone flipped open and rasped out, “Yeah?”

“Dean.”

“Dad?” Dean was awake and nearly on his feet in a second. “Are you okay?”

“Dean, I think I have a way to get you out of your contract.”

“What?” Dean was suddenly very confused. His dad had been working on that? Since when, and why had Dean not been informed? Dean felt like rudely awaking his brother via pillow to the face because Sam must have had something to do with this. Surely, their father had more important things to do than clean up his idiot son’s mess.

“Don’t tell me you actually thought I’d just let that go. You’re my boy, Dean. I’m not letting you go to Hell.”

“But Da—”

“Sure have gotten insolent in your married years, never knew you to talk back so much. Not sure if I should be thanking that angel of yours or smacking him. How is he by the way? He there? I’d like to go over this with him.”

“No, Dad,” Dean said softly.

“What do you mean no? You ain’t gonna let me speak to him now?”

“That’s not what I meant. He’s not here. We’ve ah…” Dean did not want to say ‘they were on a break’ but he wasn’t sure what else he could call it. The truth just sounded childish and Dean was fully willing to acknowledge that in the very secret corners of his mind.

“When was the last time you saw him?” John asked. His tone was strange. If Dean didn’t know any better, he’d say John’s tone was sympathetic.

“A while,” was all Dean would offer.

“All right, I’ll let it slide for now. Anyway, the demon that holds your contract is called Lilith. I have a bead on where she’s gonna be in a week from now. If we confront her, we just might be able to… persuade her to break the deal. You still got the Colt?”

“’Course,” Dean replied, now slightly offended. Sure he hadn’t been too terribly interested in it when John handed it to him, but it’s not like he’d ever leave it behind, and they hadn’t had a chance to get back to Bobby’s.

“Good,” John nodded. “I want you to do one more thing for me,” John didn’t wait for Dean to ask what, he just pushed ahead, “give your Uncle Bobby a call. We’ll need all hands on this one. If he can round up the Harvelles, that’ll be a bonus. Clear?”

“Yes, Sir,” Dean said. Dean expected to hear the familiar dial tone after his conversation but the line was just silent for a second.

John spoke up again and what he said surprised Dean to no end, “And Dean-o? Don’t worry about that boy of yours. He’ll come around, it’ll work out just fine. He loves you too damn much for it not to.”

Dean didn’t share that Cas wasn’t keeping away by choice; instead he just said, his voice thick, “Thanks, Dad.”

There was the familiar dial tone. Figures. Dean showed a little emotion and he was met with an electronic buzz. Then again, if Dad got gooey on him, he’d probably break out the salt and holy water and do some hunting.

“He hasn’t called me ‘Dean-o’ in years,” Dean muttered a little in awe, still staring down at his phone.

“Huh? Wha…?” Sam muttered, pushing himself up to reveal a pillow creased face and crazy bedhead.

“Dad,” Dean replied distantly.

That had Sam sitting up in his bed almost as quickly as Dean had a few moments earlier.

“Dad?” Sam said surprised, “Did he call?”

“Yeah,” Dean still felt a bit dazed. “Seems he found a way we might be able to break the deal.”

“What?! How?” Sam had his eager puppy face on.

Dean explained what little he knew, but that didn’t quell any of Sam’s excitement, he just said firmly, “I need to call Cas, now.”

_Cas_.

xx

Castiel’s eyes flew open and he plummeted through the upper regions of the atmosphere without a thought. _Dean_.

_Not so fast, Little Bird._

Castiel cried out, pain tearing through his body as he was caught firm in the full power of an archangel. Tears, unbidden, leaked out of his vessel’s eyes before the rapidly-approaching Earth surface was nothing but a black void.

 xx

Dean frowned at his phone and still saw there were no missed calls. He wasn’t sure _how_ he would have missed them, considering it had been on constantly for the two days and he even took the damn thing in the bathroom with him. But, anything could happen.

Currently, they were in abandoned house on the outskirts of New Harmony, Indiana where their father had said to meet him. John was still a no-show and Castiel, the one who Dean was frantically checking his phone for, was still elusive. Dean hit the second speed dial key again and held the phone to his ear. He heard it ring for what seemed like an eternity before switching over to voicemail for what had to be the hundredth time, if not more. The fact that Castiel still had the phone _on_ had to be a good sign, right? Or was it worse because that meant he was deliberately ignoring Dean’s calls? Dean fidgeted restlessly.

Dialled again.

Nothing.

What was that they said? The definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results? Dean just crossed the border into crazy-ville then, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. All he had within himself was anger, guilt and frustration at his own stupidity. He should have just listened to Sam when Sam said to call Cas the first time.

“So sorry, Babe,” Dean whispered to the air.

Sam came in at the tail end of Dean’s words, carrying a pile of wood he had been out chopping. He smiled sympathetically at his brother. “Still nothing?”

Dean shook his head. “Nothing from Dad either.”

There was a knock on the door. Dean looked up hopefully and Sam answered it cautiously. He frowned at first, seeing nothing there, then trailed his gaze down to see a little blonde girl, with a round face wearing a pink and white dress. She grinned at him.

Sam’s blood ran like ice, he managed to get out the first sound of Dean’s name before he was flung bodily across the room.

xx

Michael was prowling idly around Castiel’s bright, burning cage, a wicked smile on his lips. Castiel felt sick at each glimpse of those hazel-green eyes, not able to believe what he was seeing while trying to remain as calm as possible. This was not a situation that would improve by Castiel losing control even though the only thing he wanted to do was scream and rail against the archangel contaminating the body he abducted. Castiel had finally managed to ask what Michael gained from this entire thing but his older brother was taking his time answering.

“It’s simple really,” Michael finally said with John’s lips twisted in a smile. “He says yes and Daddy lives, he says no and Daddy dies.”

Castiel felt his anger curl in his stomach as he walked to the edge of the ring, useless and powerless. Michael was far too strong for any of Castiel’s ‘parlour tricks’ to have any effect in the surroundings. The archangel’s very presence was enough to make Castiel little more than human at the moment. Jimmy was whispering in his head, pleading Castiel to just let go and then Jimmy would get them out of there once he was angel free. It was a good and noble suggestion but Castiel would not risk Jimmy’s life like that. At least if he had a chance to maybe _reason_ with Michael, he could barter for Jimmy’s life. Only one of them would have to die.

_What about Dean?_

_He’ll have you._

_He doesn’t love me._

_You love him._

_Castiel, just let me go and I’ll get us out, please._

**_No._ ** _You’ll **die.**_

Castiel switched tactics and turned his gaze on his brother. It was difficult to look at him. He was so brilliant, filled with so much of their Father’s grace. Castiel shook off the awe and asked, “What do you hope to achieve, Michael? There is an order to these things, is there not?”

“It’s not complicated, Castiel,” Michael drawled. “Dean’s soul is the thing that gets shunted off to Hell. It is his soul that will break. When the chits come in, I’ll let Crowley’s hounds tear the slimy thing free and then the sack is all mine. Handy and human free. I will then be prepared for Lucifer’s resurrection and will be able to stop him before things get out of hand.”

“How long have you had that body?” Castiel asked carefully. When could John have possibly agreed to this? Under what circumstances?

“A while,” Michael smiled. He lifted his wrist and waggled his hand, the light of Castiel’s prison catching on metal. “I visited the same jeweller as Meg. Neat trick, huh?”

Castiel refused to answer.

Michael just shrugged, not bothered by his unimpressed little brother.

“And if Dean doesn’t make the deal?” Castiel asked, pressing on.

Michael raised a slow eyebrow. “I hardly think he’ll refuse. He acquiesced without thought for Sweet Sammy. Lilith is ah… persuading him as we speak.”

Castiel swallowed. “If _I_ can convince Dean not to do it?”

Michael snorted. “Oh you pathetic sop. You really think _you_ will be able to persuade Dean Winchester out of saving his precious Daddy when you could do nothing about his precious Sammy? Really, Castiel? I’m surprised in you. I didn’t think you were that stupid. With these Winchesters, only one thing ever comes first and you don’t have it, My Dear. It’s in their DNA. They will always, always throw themselves on the pyre for blood. In the long run, who are you really to him?”

“He loves me,” Castiel said defiantly, “he _needs_ me. Just as surely as I love and need him.”

“Hmm… His fuck toy or his prized possession?” Michael made a show of weighing his hands like scales. The one he labelled as the latter he rose higher and waggled. “No contest.”

“But what _if_?” Castiel stressed.

Michael snorted again. “Stop deluding yourself.”

“Fine,” Castiel said firmly. “If your feelings are that strong that he will deny me over you, then let me go, at least give me a fair run at it. If you’re that certain, there should be no need for me to remain here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Lose one of my bargaining chips?” Michael sneered. “I never thought you such a fool. I always imagined you to be the wiser of your ilk. Not simpering and spineless like Anael or Uriel. So eager to please, those two. You can just _imagine_ what they did for me.”

Castiel looked away. “What have you to lose, really? If what you say is true then I’m next to useless. Just let me out, let me try. If I fail, then I fail. If I win then surely I deserved to, what with how confident you are.”

Michael stared at Castiel long and hard before he grinned. “Well, it may be entertaining. I have been awfully bored lately. Fine.” Michael snapped his fingers and the fire around Castiel’s feet dissipated. Castiel readied himself to fly.

“Not so fast, Castiel. Zachariah!”

Castiel’s former superior arrived in less than a second, staring at Michael as an eager pup would stare at his master. Castiel was revolted at the blind faith he saw and the complete disinterest Michael had in what he saw as little better than a bacterium.

“Yes, Michael?”

“Get my vessel’s bastard and his slut. If this little speck does obliterate all my expectations, I wonder how eager baby Winchester will be to trade everything for Mommy’s life,” Michael grinned like a snake, Zachariah right along with him.

“At least I’ll have one. You can’t save them both, Castiel. Time to choose.”

Michael raised his fingers. Castiel felt his heart bottom out in his stomach as he realized the implications of Michael’s words. If by some miracle Castiel did succeed, he’d be sending a child for an eternity of torture. If he didn’t, he’d been sending the love of his very, very long life for the same.

“No!” Castiel shouted, but it was too late. Michael had sent him plummeting back to Earth. Castiel only had seconds to right himself. He needed to find Dean – _Now!_

xx

“Oh, were you expecting someone?” Lilith asked sweetly, staring down at the bloodied but still defiant Dean. Sam wasn’t faring much better across the room, but he was conscious at least so Dean counted that as a win.

“Well, we didn’t exactly roll out the welcome wagon for _you_ ,” Dean rasped.

“Bring him in,” Lilith said sharply to the two demon guards behind her. The tone was strange coming from her girlish body.

The two demons came in the door shortly after with a large body slumped between them. Dean’s heart caught in his throat as he recognized the latest victim as his father. Sam let out a faint, strangled cry as he tried to crawl closer. Lilith flicked her wrist only to send him flying again 

“Stop it,” John managed, his voice weak. Dean was surprised to even hear it when he saw the shape his father was in after the demons dropped him.

“Dad!” Dean shouted, trying to rush to the man’s side.

“Stay there, Son,” John said, his voice surprisingly firm. Dean faltered then stopped automatically at the command in the tone. “Where’s Cas?”

That gave Dean pause, not only was it an odd question for John to ask at that moment, but Dean couldn’t recall his father ever using the nickname before in the eight years he had known the angel. The angel, flyboy, feathers. His full name on occasion, boy, once in a while. But never ‘Cas.’

“Cas?” Dean asked uncertainly.

“Yeah, Cas,” John seemed far too impatient for someone that injured and surrounded by demons.

“Why are you…?” Dean backed up and looked at Sam, then back at his father and said firmly. “Something’s wrong.”

John looked as if he were about to argue, then he stood calmly, the demons backing away and Lilith crossed her arms over her chest. John cracked his neck.

“That was growing tiresome anyway,” John said idly, but Dean recognized the cadence.

“Michael,” Dean growled. “Get out of him, right now.”

Michael smiled then lifted away the edge of his coat to reveal a deep, bloody wound that likely had collapsed a lung. “Are you sure about that? I get out of him right now, he probably has ten seconds to live. Nothing you or Darling Sammy can do about it.”

“What do you want?” Dean asked, resignedly.

“Right to the chase, hmm? Can’t say I’m not pleased. I think though, Dean, that if you thought for just one moment you could discover for yourself very easily what it is I want.”

“My yes for my dad’s life,” Dean said without having to think of it. “Is that it? God, you’re all sick fucks. Not just the demons.”

“You say yes, I fix your dad up good as new. Better even,” Michael offered, spreading his arms wide. “I let Sam and your dad walk out of here of their own volition and never bother them again. All it takes is one simple yes.”

“What about Cas?” Dean asked. “You’ll leave him alone and all your angel buddies will do the same?”

“If he doesn’t interfere,” Michael said calmly.

“No, no matter what,” Dean retorted. “No matter what he tries to do, you leave him alone.”

Michael sighed. “Fine.”

“And Adam and his mom too!” Dean put in hurriedly.

Michael tightened his borrowed jaw. “Fine.”

Dean’s eyes darted over to Sam’s wide-eyed gaze then said, “And if I do this, my contract with the demons is null and void right? They can’t kill me while you’re riding around in my meat.”

Michael smirked, “Dean, your meat will be perfectly fine.”

Dean still had his suspicions in the back of his mind, but really, if Michael agreed to all Dean’s conditions it sounded like a fair deal. Michael could stop Lucifer before he torched half the planet. Before he even broke free from the cage. Sam, Dad and Cas would be just fine. Dean would be MIA for a bit but he would be free of Hell and that’s exactly what his family wanted. Cas especially. When all this was over, Dean and Cas could be happy and together again with no more threatening shadows hanging over their heads.

“Dean! Stop!”

Dean turned just in time to see Castiel stumble towards him. He looked harried. and if Dean wasn’t mistaken, a little singed. It wasn’t something obvious, there was just an element underneath of not quite well.

“Cas, what happened?” Dean asked, rushing to the angel’s side and clutching at his arms. “Where have you been, Man?”

“Michael. It’s a trick Dean. It’s all a trick. The minute you say yes your life is forfeit. He may keep his promises, he may not, but once your deal with Hell comes due, he’s just going to let them take you.”

“Cas, he just said—”

“Did he say your _soul_ would be fine, Dean?” Castiel interrupted, demanding, fisting Dean’s shirt.

“He—”

“He didn’t,” Sam rasped, answering for his brother. “He said meat. Not your soul.”

“Dean,” Castiel said gently, moving his hands from the human’s chest to cup Dean’s cheek. “Listen, please listen. You can’t say yes to Michael. He may allow your family to walk away unscathed but that will not apply to the Earth. He will let you go to Hell and he will let the world burn.”

“But my dad,” Dean said, his voice cracking.

“Would your father really, truly want you to sacrifice yourself for him?”

Dean searched Castiel’s eyes, then shot his gaze over to Sam’s morose face. Then back at Michael, wearing his dad’s face. “I want to speak to my dad.”

“What?” Michael frowned. “No.”

Dean shook Castiel’s hands off and stepped away. He missed Castiel’s crestfallen expression.

Dean moved closer to Michael, squared his shoulders and repeated, “I want to speak to my dad. I know you can do it without letting go completely.”

“Why?” Michael asked suspiciously.

“To say goodbye. You let him speak to me, and I’ll say yes. But you can’t jump this sweet ass until he’s fixed up like new.”

“You’re going to say yes,” Michael repeated carefully.

“Yes, I will. It’s the only way to keep my family safe,” Dean replied.

Sam and Castiel were both aghast and they shared stricken looks behind Dean’s back. Michael smirked slowly and nodded. He closed his eyes. With an inhale, John Winchester was back in control of his body.

“Dean, Sam, Castiel. It’s good to see you, Boys” John smiled. “Now, what’s going on?”

“Dad, I…” Dean’s gaze shot over to Sam, still surrounded by demons and Castiel, just feet away from Michael’s blast zone. “Dad, retract.”

“Huh?” John blinked.

“Whatever he promised you, it won’t happen. Your deal’s off, push him out,” Dean spoke quickly and quietly. He knew the moment his plan was discovered. John’s gaze darkened and his hand raised, ready to destroy.

“You little bastard,” Michael hissed. “You disgusting, mewling, ape! You’re going to pay fo—”  Michael cried out suddenly, his hand coming to his head. In all the history of creation, in all the history of vessels, Michael knew this never had happened before. John Winchester was taking back control.

Castiel moved quicker than either Dean or Sam could follow, but one moment the demon guards at Sam’s side were standing and the next they were crumpled to the ground, their eyes burned out. Sam knew he only had seconds to act. He bent and scooped up the little girl, Lilith, too stunned by Michael’s losing battle and Castiel’s speed to fight immediately. At the last second, Sam twisted and threw her small body towards the rug in the centre of the room. Lilith howled as her back hit the invisible, impenetrable wall of the devil’s trap Dean had painted when they arrived. At the time, he’d told Sam better safe than sorry and Sam now couldn’t be more grateful for his brother’s paranoia.

“Dean!” Castiel shouted.

Dean turned. “You ready Cas? The minute Michael gets booted out, you need to heal my dad. He’s gonna die.”

“But Dean, Zachariah has Adam and his mother!” Castiel rushed forward. “The minute John pushes out Michael, he is going to go to your brother. If Adam doesn’t say yes, Michael will kill Kate.”

“He’s fifteen!” Dean cried, aghast, his eyes shooting over to the still-battling John and Sam’s sick, nervous face.

“I don’t think Michael cares at this point. He needs someone, he’s so close. He’s not about to give up now and retreat to Heaven,” Castiel explained over John’s cries and Lilith’s wails.

Dean thought frantically. Could he feed Adam into a meat grinder for his father’s life? John would never forgive Dean. He had tried so hard to keep Adam out of this. Even concealing his existence from his own sons in order to protect him. Sammy had only just met his brother, the bright young kid who had years ahead of him. Could grow up and live a long, happy, normal life away from all the terror that Dean, Sam, Castiel and John saw every day. It meant sacrificing his father for his brother. The choice was impossible. Castiel was quick though.

“Go,” Dean said. “Go get Adam, take him and his mom to Bobby’s, then come back as quick as you can.”

Castiel hesitated a second then nodded. Before he left though, Dean grabbed him with two hands by his shirt and pulled him in for a deep kiss, sinking into the feel of his angel pressed to his chest again. Here, in his arms, safe and sound.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said when he pulled away. “I was such an idiot. I love you.”

“I know,” Castiel smiled, then he was gone.

There was nothing he could do for John right now, but Lilith’s crying was getting on his nerves as she had a truly inspired temper tantrum in her painted trap. He reached into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out the Colt. He pulled back the hammer and pointed it at the child.

“You, shut up!” Dean snapped.

Lilith must have recognized the gun, because she stilled and quieted, staring at the barrel before smiling sweetly at Dean. Dean’s stomach rolled.

Sam suddenly rushed passed Dean and Dean realized how quiet it had gotten. He turned to see John slowly slumping to the floor, his breath rasping and painful as he looked at his sons with wide eyes. Sam was at his side, having stripped off his jacket and pressed it to the wound on John’s chest.

Dean let the Colt falter on Lilith for a second and she smirked at him, far too old for such a young face. He straightened the revolver and kept one eye on the demon and one eye on his slowly dying father.

“Dad,” Dean whispered.

“Hang on, Dad, okay? Cas will be back in no time.”

“Adam?” John wheezed.

“He’s safe. Cas is making sure,” Sam promised.

“B—”

“Dad! Don’t try to talk. Just hang in there,” Dean spoke over him, desperate to go to his side, to sit with him and make him fight but terrified to leave Lilith without the threat of the gun, not willing to risk what she might do, as powerful as she was.

John smiled, his eyes clouding over. “Love… you… Boys…”

“Dad!” Sam shouted.

“Sam? Talk to me,” Dean demanded.

“Dad! No, you bastard, open your eyes!” Sam was shaking their father now, one hand still pressed on the angry, sluggishly leaking wound. “Dad! Fuck you! Wake up!”

“Sam?” Dean demanded again.

Sam began doing compressions, but the sick knot of dread in Dean’s gut told him it was too late. All Sam was succeeding in was pushing more blood out of their father’s body. Just when he was about to say screw it and let the demon bitch do what she wanted, Castiel was there and pulled Sam bodily away from Dean, gathering the younger man’s large frame to him, then leaning over the fallen patriarch. He put his hand out, pressed carefully against John’s ravaged chest and for one brief, shining moment, Dean felt hope sear through him.

“Cas?” Dean asked.

“Adam and his mother are safe,” Castiel answered, “but I… I can’t save your father. His soul has already departed. I’m so sorry Dean.” He moved away and shifted so he could wrap both arms around Sam and looked with sorrowful eyes at Dean. Dean couldn’t believe it; he refused to believe it. It didn’t make sense. John couldn’t be _gone_. He—

Dean spun. “You, demon bitch. Can you bring him back?”

“Dean!” Castiel shouted.

Lilith shrugged and said airily, “No.”

“Fuck you! Can you bring him back?”

“Watch your language or you’ll have to put a nickel in the swear jar!” Lilith chastised. “Naughty humans with their filthy mouths. I said _no_. He’s gone where I can’t reach him.” Lilith pointed to the sky.

“Good, then I can kill you,” Dean gritted out, his finger began to squeeze the trigger.

“Wait!” Lilith shouted. “I’ll let you out of your contract! I hold it! Special case. Normally Crowley has them, but I took care of this myself. Let me out and let me go and I won’t send my doggies after you in two months. Cross my heart,” she even went so far as to make the gesture.

Dean faltered again. “Cross your heart?”

“Cross my heart,” Lilith nodded frantically.

Dean lowered the gun and stepped to the edge of the red spray-painted circle. “Do it, and then I’ll let you out.”

“Let me out and then I’ll do it,” Lilith countered.

“No fucking way, bitch,” Dean said firmly.

Sam had calmed now and had gone quiet, sitting next to the angel and his father’s body.

Castiel’s attention was now fully on Dean once more and he could only watch, torn between wanting to smite the abominable creature himself but also knowing that the small girl the demon possessed was still alive. He would hate to have Lilith roaming the Earth, it went against his very nature, but killing a child was unthinkable.

Lilith hesitated for a second before she raised her hand and made a brushing motion in the air like shooing a buzzing insect. Dean didn’t feel any different.

“Cas?” Dean asked. “Can you tell?”

Castiel patted Sam’s shoulder then rose, walking over to Dean’s side and placing a hand on the scar on Dean’s shoulder. He concentrated, focused, and then nodded with a tired smile.

Dean took the last step forward to the red line and used his toe to begin scuffing it away. Lilith was tense and eager to go. Dean hoped this would work and that it wouldn’t blow up in his face. Just as he brushed away the last miniscule line of red he raised the Colt again, pulled back the hammer and fired right into the child’s heart. She gaped, shocked, the body jumping as amber lightning danced below her skin.

“Cas! Help her!” Dean said quickly.

Castiel nodded and the minute the convulsions stopped, he put a hand on the child’s head and concentrated. He managed to catch the soul just before it departed and the girl opened her eyes and began screaming, huge tears leaking out of her eyes. Castiel gathered her into his arms and shushed her quietly, rocking her as she sobbed.

Dean nodded. He turned to look at Sam and his father’s body. Dean approached them quietly and sat at his father’s side. He took the rapidly-cooling hand in his own with silent apologies.

xx

Jess and Sam stood huddled together, the firelight flickering on their faces, catching tear tracks in the night. Bobby stood a little ways from them, staring at the flames with a bottle of whiskey in his hand that he’d used to salute his former friend earlier. Dean stood with Castiel’s arm around him, nestled tight against his side as the pyre burned. A hunter’s funeral. No eulogies, no music, but the crackling of the flames as John Winchester’s body was gradually removed from the Earth.

“I wish I could have made it in time,” Castiel whispered, not for the first time.

“If we had picked him over Adam, he never would have forgiven us,” Dean answered. “God knows I’m going to miss him but this is the way he would have wanted it.”

“Yes, I think you’re right.”

Dean pulled slightly away from Castiel, only enough to take his hand and lead him over to Sam, Jess and Bobby. He slung an arm over Sam’s shoulder and squeezed.

“What now?” Sam asked.

“Well, we pick up where he left off, Sammy. Saving people, hunting things, the family business.”

If their family was a little bit bigger now? Well, there was no harm in that.

John Winchester would be missed but Dean knew without a doubt that he’d also be proud.

  
   

**End**

 


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